Ranger
by Iresol
Summary: Pre-Black Hawk Down: Gordon's troubled past emerges and causes problems in his life. Prior to the movie, set when Gordon is a Ranger. Gordon fic #1
1. Chapter 1

Prologue.

It was so cold.

I remember the cold most of all, it was bitter and numbing. It snuck under the jeans and flannel shirt I wore. It was all I wore on that cold Christmas Eve in Vermont.

Snow had been shoveled off the cement walk, it was close to three feet high on either side of the salted ground. The salt crunched under my boots, the snow had soaked them long ago.

My feet were so cold they burnt.

It was a sign of frostbite but I remained silent; Gordon walked in front of me with bare feet.

The boots were his as was the flannel shirt. All Gordon wore was a pair of jeans and t-shirt from the fishing boat he had left. His hands were red from the cold but strong. His hands were always strong no matter what happened to us.

The snow came down heavily around us, a blizzard. The cold icy wind slid under the flannel shirt and chilled me. But, I would not complain, we were safe.

I followed him up the marble steps of the church.

Unable to help myself, I looked around at the small sleeping town. It was past midnight, so there was no one on the street.

"Angela, it's ok, we're safe."

I looked back to Gordon and smiled, unable to even find the words to thank him.

"Come on. It's warm in here. We'll hide out here until the buses start up again."

That sounded wonderful, the sooner we could leave the better.

I followed him to the wooden doors of the old Catholic Church.

A breeze of warm air came out when he opened the door for me. I quickly ran into the church, greedy for the heat that immediately burnt my skin. It made my nose run even more.

Gordon closed the door behind us and shone his flashlight around. A statue of the Virgin Mary watched us from the corner.

He swung the light into the empty church and then around the front area.

"Are we allowed to just stay here?"

Gordon aimed the dim light at my face, "Don't worry. This is a church, it's always open for a reason. We'll just find a nice warm room and camp out tonight."

I smiled and wiped my nose with the sleeve of his worn green shirt.

With a gentle hand he took the bottom tail of the shirt, "Come on. There are usually offices and bathrooms in the back."

Gordon walked slowly, shining his light all over as we explored the church. We walked past marble statues and framed pictures of saints and popes. Past a confessional and office. Down a hall we found a bathroom. Across from the bathroom was a nursery.

Gordon pushed the decorated door open and peered in the dark room.

I reached past him and felt around the wall, the flipped the light switch.

What looked like a kindergarten classroom was the nursery. There were cubbies

against the wall, small round tables, boxes of toys and a chalkboard, even a nap

area.

Both Gordon and I spotted the pile of foam napping mats and blankets.

"Perfect," he muttered with a look around the room. The walls were covered with hand painted nativity scenes and glittery angels.

I patted his warm arm, "I'm going to go clean up."

"All right, I'll make a bed and then see if I can find some food for us."

He turned and paused at the sight of me.

I knew without a mirror, that I looked as if I had been through a war. My face throbbed with a vengeance, where it did not throb it stung.

"Why don't you see if the bathroom has some Tylenol? I'll get some ice for your eye."

With a painful smile, I walked to the bathroom and turned the light on. Pain radiated through my hand. Not from the cold but the bones that were likely broken. I had no desire to look at my hand. It always hurt more when I looked at my bruises and cuts.

The smell of cinnamon filled the small room and made me sneeze. I wiped my nose on my arm, not my hand.

My hand had begun to throb from the warmth of the church.

I went to the mirror above the sink and looked for a hinge. Not one hinge on either side of the mirror, it indeed was a mirror not a medicine cabinet. Inwardly I was heartbroken; my hand would likely throb painfully all night long.

When I looked at my face in the mirror I almost cried. I understood why Gordon thought of Tylenol when he looked at me. My black eye was bloodshot and the first thing I noticed. Then my gaze traveled, on my other cheek was a bruise from earlier in the day. My top lip was swollen, while the bottom had a scab across it lengthways from my teeth. There was a cut on the opposite cheek with blood smeared over the reddened skin.

The aftertaste of blood lingered in my mouth, my blood. And then there were handprints on my neck , which looked worse of all the bruises. My thick hair hung down and managed to hide some of them.

My appearance alone almost brought tears to my eyes. I could not cry, I would not cry. I closed my eyes to stop the tears and I could remember everything. Every last curse, slap, and kick. But most of all I remembered the fear I felt when they came through the apartment door. The fear was so strong I never felt one of the blows.

A soft noise caught my attention.

I turned and saw Gordon with a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other.

"I found some Advil. I don't know if two will be enough between your face, neck, and hand."

I refused to look at my hand, I did not want to see what damage had been done to it again. My poor hand had been broken so many times there was not a unbroken bone, in either one of my hands.

I held out my good hand and looked at the two round pills. I dropped them in my mouth then took the glass of cool water. The water helped wash the blood taste from my mouth.

"Do you want me to take you to the hospital? I think there are a couple of broken bones in your hand. Especially those two fingers."

Finally, I looked at my left hand. Not only was it red from the cold and bloody from a cut on the palm. My middle and index fingers were so darkly bruised they had to be broken. Not to mention they hurt too much to move. But, they were straight, not bent out of shape.

"If we go to the hospital, they will want to know what happened. They'll probably think you did this and will call the police. Gordon, I don't want you in any trouble. I just want to get away from here. Far far away."

I could see the anger and exhaustion in his face.

Gordon was truly concerned about me, "If you can't move your hand in the morning. You're going to the hospital."

"Ok," I agreed.

Then he sighed and sat down on the toilet seat, "Angela…we have to do something. We can't keep this up. I don't like leaving you in a cheap apartment for weeks at a time. I don't like having you too terrified to leave because of him. We just can't live like this."

His words were truer then I liked to admit. For weeks at a time he would be out on a Lobster Fleet, while I was alone, too terrified to even leave the apartment or hotel. "What do you want to do? I can't get a job without graduating. And no one will hire a runaway fifteen year old."

Gordon shook his head, "No. I was thinking. I'm eighteen so I can join the

military. I can change my name, legally. Then, when you're old enough in a few years we can get married."

A stunned stupor overcame me, "Married?"

His bright blue eyes held my own, "Look, we're both way too screwed up to even have a normal relationship with a guy or girl. I am not going to let you become some homeless prostitute. You're my best friend…you are the only thing that has kept me sane and out of jail. If I change my last name, then I join the military and we get married…you'll get benefits."

"Benefits?"

Gordon nodded, "Yeah. One of the guys who was on the boat with me was a Ranger and."

I interrupted him, "A Ranger? Like a park ranger?"

"He was in the Army. He owned the fleet. But anyway, we get insurance. A salary and housing on a military base, which means no one but military people get in and out. You'd be in a protected _gated_ area."

That idea appealed to me.

Gordon could see it in my eyes, he ran a hand over his short dark hair. "You would also get to finish school and go to college. And…you would have a different last name. No one would find us. The Captain told me that we'd get shipped all over the United States and the World, that's if I joined for life."

I could have cared less about the benefits and college, even a new last name for me, which sounded like freedom to me. I asked him, "Would you be happy in the military?"

Gordon laughed and smiled at me, "I think so. I've been thinking about it for a while…I don't care what branch I go in at this point. It has to be better then this."

I took a breath and looked at my battered hand. "What about being married?"

"Angela…I am in absolutely no shape to date. You are the only person I care about. I am nothing without you. I want to make your life better. This is the only way I can foresee that we make something of ourselves. I don't want to go back. I don't want to be a fisherman my whole life. And I know you want something more. If we do this…I can give you a new life. I can save us both."

Gordon's plan sounded wonderful, anything was wonderful anything was better then what we had left. So I asked, "What will our new last name be?"


	2. Chapter 2

1.

Where he had picked up his new found southern accent was a mystery to me. I didn't know and I didn't want to know. He had somehow managed to master the twang of all twangs. God only knew how.

He was always good at mimicking different accents though. He could always pretend to be something he wasn't. He could pretend to be warm when he was freezing, he could pretend to be full when his stomach growled. He never ceased to amaze me.

For the most part, he seemed content with the southern accent…for the moment.

But, I just had to ask, "Gordon?"

I could not help myself.

I gazed back at my childhood friend, who no longer appeared to be a child, far from it. And I asked, while picking a box of tea bags from the shelf, "Are you keeping that twang? Or what? You've had it every since we ended up down here."

After a quick check to make sure they weren't decaffeinated, which would turn me into Satan. I tossed them into the cart he so leisurely pushed. As if he didn't have a care in the world.

"You got somethin against the southern accent? I think it is classy."

This came from a man who ate beanie-weenie.

My eyes looked back at my list, "Whatever you say…did you want any of that nasty paste?"

The kart bumped my ass and then came to a stop.

"Peanut-butter?"

I waved a hand dismissively and kept walking, the man ate some of the nastiest things in the world. "Get a small jar. Last time you bought that muck it went bad cause you were gone and no one ate it."

I heard the sound of a jar hitting the kart.

Again, a short time later, the kart bumped my ass. Unable to get mad at him, I turned and walked back beside him. Placing a loving hand upside the back of his head. "You are the worlds biggest two year old, do you know that?"

He just grinned at me.

It was a thousand watt smile.

Like always, it melted away at my stomach. I looked back down at my list so he wouldn't see me blush. It didn't help when he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me between his arms, so I was between his body and the kart.

Not distracting at all.

"I'm trying to shop," I informed him.

He steered the kart into the next aisle, "And I'm helping.

Oh yeah, he was a big help.

Just when I thought my cheeks couldn't burn anymore, he began to peck at my ears. That wasn't quite so bad. Well, I couldn't concentrate on my list. Then, his tongue ran along the corner of my ear. I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I turned around and he didn't move, which only made my cheeks burn.

I couldn't even talk with a straight face.

This was perfect, just perfect.

My shrink was going to have a field day with this. I pushed his back and told him, "You…you need a job. Go get a pound of carrots or something."

There was still that smile on his face.

It made me feel like I was the most beautiful woman in the world, no matter what I thought the rest of the time. I watched him strut off grinning from ear to ear looking like the sexiest damn man on Earth. I made sure he was around the corner and then sagged against the shopping cart.

There was no amount of therapy that could have prepared me for him, for dating. I had to be the only woman married for almost a decade and then began to date her husband.

Sure, there was nothing wrong with me.

I looked at the list and just stared, hearing my therapists voice in my head. Just like every and anytime I over analyzed everything.

"_Angela, it is completely normal for children of traumatic childhoods to feel this way. You're not alone. You just have to remember that everyone has their own inner demons and need to recognize them in order to work through them. You have both me and Norman. How are things going with your husband?"_

It was bad enough going over every last freaking detail of my hellish childhood, those wonderful depressed years that followed, and then my adulthood where I was supposed to just forget about it all and join society. But telling a happily married woman that I still slept on the floor because beds gave me nightmares. Or that I had just started to consider a sexual relationship with my husband of seven years, that did wonders for my self-esteem.

A hand touched my arm and I screamed.

A cold rush of fear filled me and I jumped, turned, and saw a woman about ninety in a hot pink jogging suit. She stared at me like I was insane and pointed to my purse.

My breath became ragged and I gasped. I found myself stepping away from her. I could see she was no threat to me. Still…I wanted away from her, I didn't want her touching me.

But, I forced myself to smile at her.

I gasped and added, "Sorry. You scared me."

She looked at me as if I were speaking French while growing a second head.

Like I wasn't already feeling like the biggest ass in the world. Screaming over some old woman touching me, Gordon came back. He came in the aisle looking to see what was wrong, looking to see why I had screamed.

His task forgotten.

Thank you Murphy, your Law never ceases to fail me.

I watched Gordon load the paper bags of food into the back of our new car. Feeling completely useless since he wouldn't let me help. A part of me was happy.

Not because he told the touchy feely woman not to touch me, or because I was tired and wanted to be wrapped in that blanket of security that he always provided.

I just didn't want to be me. I no longer wanted to feel weak anymore, I was tired of feeling helpless and out of control. It was all emotional or psychological, or whatever. But I was sick of it. I was perfectly able when he was gone. I was the major breadwinner. I had paid off the house, the cars, and everything else while his checks went into savings.

I took care of everything when he was gone.

Yet, an arthritic woman that smelled like mothballs touches me and I loose it. I knew he was thinking about it. I knew it was why we left the Food Lion with half our groceries. Not because his beeper went off like he told me and he wanted to get back to base.

Sometimes I was happier with a lie then the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

2.

Gordon had always done a excellent job of keeping me separate from his work. Whether it was to keep himself sane, or myself sane, I had no idea. But he immersed himself within the Army, into becoming a Ranger, and had settled for nothing less then that.

He was a different person when he was on the bases. It was obvious to me. It didn't bother me.

He wasn't meaner or anything, he was just…different, more concentrated, more intense.

Just like when we were on our own as children.

So when he dropped me off at home and headed out it didn't surprise me. I went into my studio and went to work. I turned on my music. I opened the windows and let the summer breeze float in the condo. I pondered through my studio, my workplace, and decided what called to me, what I wanted to do.

I pondered my way into the kitchen.

Made myself a cup of hot tea and decided I wanted to paint.

So I set a teapot on the stove and strolled into the screened in back porch where my wheel was kept. Where my clay remained and the keel. While I listened for the water to boil and the kettle to whistle, I set about getting all my supplies together.

A bowl of water.

My tools.

Several large lumps of clay.

A few trays.

In no mood to ruin another set of clothes, I changed into a pair of tattered jeans that had more holes then a net, and a paint stained white wife beater. The scars that had been hidden beneath my long sleeve shirt stood out like tattoos against the pale skin of my wrists.

At home I could bear them. But I could no longer stand the stares they drew.

Once dressed, I strolled into the kitchen to the whistling kettle. My toe rings making soft noises against the floor.

No sooner had I poured the water into the mug, did the front door of our home open. Gordon's voice echoed through, "Angela!"

He rarely yelled, and even less so at me.

This got my immediate attention.

So much so that I walked from the kitchen, tea in hand. I peeked out and spotted Gordon with another man. I almost dropped the tea at the sight of the stranger.

Gordon didn't seem to notice.

He came to me, took my mug away, and pushed me with a hand upon the small of my back. "Angela, go pack a bag. Now. Pack a week's worth of clothing."

I looked at him in disbelief.

The other man seemed to have vanished.

"Gordon, what's going on? Whose that man?"

He directed me toward our bedroom. "Angela, just get clothes. Now, I'll tell you once you get in the car."

It was then I realized what was happening. We had been found. It had been so long since we had to worry. I looked in his blue eyes and knew we had been found out.

He got me into the bedroom, "Angela please, hurry up."

A feeling of despair filled me and I listened to him. I ran into our bedroom. Past the mattress on the floor, past the furniture and to the closet. I pulled out a duffel bag and began to throw in jeans and shirts. Flip-flops and a few sleeping shirts.

Everything just got thrown in the bag.

I scurried over to the dressed and grabbed the three framed photos and my sketch pad, in they went. I needed my pencils. If I was going to be away from my studio I needed my tools.

Where did I put my pencils?

I walked out of the bedroom.

Gordon was talking to the man, "She needs all this. It's for her work, we'll need least two movin trucks. They'll have to be careful with the loom and that oven thing."

Moving trucks?

Where were we moving?

The other man scanned our home. His blue eyes ran over everything and he sighed, "You have a lot of things." The man seemed cold, distant. When his eyes found mine a chill swept through my body.

I wanted Gordon to wrap his arms around me and hold me close.

Gordon was warm.

He was everything the other man wasn't. Physically and personality wise, the two men were polar opposites. I scurried over to Gordon and hooked my arm around his, putting my chin to his warm skin and soft sleeve.

Without a word to me he took the bag from my hands. He held the other man's gaze, "She needs all this for her work. She's a professional artist, plus, her clients demand weekly shipments, Steele, she's got to work. This stuff cannot and won't go into storage for a few months. It isn't gonna happen."

Storage!

I felt my eyes widen and my stomach fall through my feet.

The man, Steele, remained calm. As if Gordon told him what color to sky was. "There is no room for all this. The apartment the captain got you is in bachelor housing, there is no other room available. There are people waiting on the list for base family housing. This will have to go into storage or she'll have to rent out a studio. But I can tell you both now, there is no way this will fit into Lopez's one bedroom and bath apartment. You should be happy he has that empty bed."

I had missed something important.

Who was Lopez?

Why were we moving in bachelor housing?

Who was this Steele man?

I could tell by his uniform he was a sergeant like Gordon. I could also tell that they were not overly fond of one another. Which wasn't that hard to figure out.

Steele took a look at his watch, "Lets continue this conversation elsewhere. Both of you go get in the jeep, I'll be right down."

Gordon took me down the flight of stairs and out into the parking lot where a military style jeep waited.

"Why can't we take my car?"

Gordon shook his head, "No. Get in the jeep."

I made a face and tried to cover my wrists. I hadn't even gotten a chance to change out of my work clothes. I felt like a fish out of water, naked. Yet, I refused to move as he tossed my bag in the back.

"Whose Lopez?"

Gordon turned to me, not exactly thrilled, "A Ranger. Do I have to put you in there?"

No.

I made a face at him and climbed up in the door less jeep. Adding as I climbed, "Why do we have to move out of our gated community and into his apartment? What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

Gordon waited till I was seated and only then did he climb in the front passenger seat. He turned and looked back to me, placing his hand on my knee. I stared at his strong calloused hand.

"Angela…they caught him."

I blinked.

Unable to comprehend his words. As if he were speaking in another language to me.

His grip tightened, "They also found the baby."

Well I understood that.

My body reacted. My throat closed and my eyes burnt, I tried to talk, I opened my mouth and no words came out.

Gordon knew. Gordon understood, he had been there. He had held my hand and then helped me flee. It was Gordon that saved me. He had taken me out of the house. He had taken me to the hospital. Then, we left. We ran away. I never expected to even hear about that baby.

I didn't want to know, I couldn't handle it.

"The lawyers are on the hunt for us. They were asking about us earlier today. That's why we're going on base, they can't get to us there. They can't get to you. Even when I'm gone, you be safe there. They got no jurisdiction there."


	4. Chapter 4

3.

Lopez seemed nice enough.

He seemed harmless.

He didn't look harmless. Like Gordon, he was big. Tall. Muscular. Stronger and bigger then me. But, he had a smile on his face that promised he would be nice to me.

He welcomed us into his home with an exaggerated sweeping gesture and seemed surprised to find that Gordon was married. With a million watt smile to me he stepped backwards and was in the living room, two steps in any direction would put him in three different rooms.

"The bedroom is in there. I changed the sheets for you two and there's an attached bathroom. Food wise…you'll have to go to the commissary."

I remained silent and wandered into the bedroom.

I could hear Gordon thank him.

I heard Gordon tell Lopez not to worry about the food.

Then I heard Gordon ask, "When will you be back from selection?" I peeked into Lopez's bedroom. There was a simple metal frame bed. There was no way on God's green earth that I would sleep on that. No way no how. I walked around it and scurried towards the bathroom, hearing Lopez tell Gordon, "No telling. I haven't met anyone who would tell me what it was like. It can't be worse then boot-camp…right?"

I gasped at the sight of the bathroom.

It was an atrocity.

The toilet, sink, and shower were a hideous pea soup color, which could have also passed for vomit, had I chosen to be picky. The shower curtain was orange, it was tiger stripe, and a faux velvet at closer inspection.

There was a rug on the floor in the shape of a checkered flag.

Not to mention a gold framed picture of a graduating Ranger class. I stepped over what looked like a mousetrap for a closer look. Sure enough a younger Lopez stood tall and proud in the front row, three men to the left stood a much younger Gordon.

Lopez had that contagious smile, Gordon's face was all business.

I stepped back.

Bumped the mousetrap.

The mousetrap snapped, I screamed, and ran out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and right into Gordon. I pointed to the bathroom, "I stepped on the mousetrap."

Behind him Lopez hissed, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that. There's a mouse somewhere in here. I haven't caught him yet…he's been shitting all over the place. See if you can catch him by the time I come back."

I gave Gordon a look of disbelief.

Lopez added, "Oh…my sister may drop by too. She's visiting, she's seeing some Ranger that just came in…I can't remember his name."

Not once for the rest of the day did he say anything about what had happened.

He never once even looked at me funny.

It was as if nothing had happened. For the rest of the day he showed me around the base. Took me to the laundry room. Took me to the PX and Commissary. Showed me where he would be at various times of the day. Introduced me to his Captain and even took me to meet a few of the wives.

"How long will he be away?" I asked, which sounded somewhat better then _how long will this apartment be ours_? I sat perched upon the dresser and watched as Gordon made our bed.

He slid the mattress off the bed and pushed the metal frame across the small room.

I tugged on the oversized green t-shirt and swung my bare legs.

Satisfied with the frame being as far away as possible, Gordon stood, pulled his sweatpants up again. The man refused to buy new sweats. He was a creature of habit and a man of simple pleasures. I'd have to burn the sweats , which had lost their elastic long ago.

"Not sure…ain't never known anyone who'd gone through selection before."

Selection?

Confused, I watched as he began to put the sheets on the mattress, which rested on the floor, beneath a window that had a broken lock. Since we were on the eighth floor and there was no fire escape ladder, I was not worried about burglars.

The blue pants began to inch their way down again and I tried not to stare.

I tried not to notice how flat his stomach was.

I tried not to notice how broad his back was or how smooth his skin looked.

I even tried not to notice the muscled lines that ran down the front of him and beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.

It wasn't going so well.

I stared at his long covered legs and wished he had that stupid PT shorts, on so I could ogle his firm thighs and rounded calves. "What is the selection for?"

Gordon crawled across the mattress and tucked the sheet between the mattress and the floor, "Delta."

Delta?

"Like the sorority?"

He laughed and looked up at me with his smoldering eyes.

He patted the mattress in front of him, "Come here and I'll tell ya."

A smile curled over my lips.

Carefully I hopped off the dresser and made sure my nightshirt covered me. His light eyes followed my every movement. When I dropped down beside him on the mattress he kissed my lips.

It was just once and it was softly. Like a butterfly kiss. Against my lips he whispered, "No. It's Special Forces. The best in the Army. It's a Counter-Terrorism Unit."

I looked in his face.

Whenever he kissed me he closed his eyes. I kept mine open. As if I were afraid I would miss something. What was I missing? I was not sure. But I watched him anyway and it drove him crazy.

"Do you want that?"

His eyes opened.

He licked his lips and then the bottom of mine. A feeling gripped my body that I fully enjoyed and I remained still. Wanting him to kiss me. Wanting him to talk. Just wanting him period.

He nibbled on my bottom lip and I wanted to touch him. He could have spoke to me in Russian and I would not have cared. I had begun to wonder why we went so long without kissing. It was amazing.

"Maybe. I don't know. I want to sort this mess out and just focus on bein a Ranger right now. If I get selected…maybe, I'd go just to see if I got it. If not…I'm happy where I am."

He wasn't lying.

I could see in his eyes he was telling me the truth, "You deserve to be happy."

A look crossed his face that could have melted butter.

My mouth grew watery. "Do you think…do you think we'll ever have…you know…sex?"

His face remained the same. Calmly he told me, "You're not ready yet."

I knew that.

I felt it.

But…I was still curious. I wasn't scared anymore. The idea didn't terrify me. Before I could say another word he kissed me, again. Not quite as soft. Nor slow, or even gentle.

It made my heart beat faster, a gasp came from my lips, and I grabbed a hold of

his arm.

At first he slowed, waiting, hesitant. When I began to kiss him he continued. My fingers touched his skin. Ran over the firm valleys of muscle. Touched and felt him in ways a curious teenage girl would.

His tongue brushed mine and all coherent thought left my head. He did it again and I made a noise.

A chirp almost.

The noise shocked me and made him laugh. I pulled back and covered my mouth. He seemed quite pleased with himself. He reached out and touched my currently reddish color hair. "Angela, noise is fine. Noise is good. It lets me know you like what I'm doin."

I tried not to blush. It didn't work.

He kissed his way to my ear and whispered, "When you're ready and we do copulate…you'll be makin a lot a noise."

My blush burnt and I shoved him aside, "You're horrible!" I climbed up to my knees and he asked, "Where you goin?"

I had to brush my teeth.

I got to my feet, "The bathroom, and feel free to copulate with yourself."

He just laughed and spread out on the mattress.


	5. Chapter 5

4.

The nightmares always came. There was hardly a week that passed where I didn't have at least one.

It had gotten better.

They no longer came several times a night. They only came once a week. But, once a week was still quite a bit too often. Especially since there was never a time I could not remember never having nightmares.

I woke without screaming, for which I was more then grateful. Gordon woke up enough with me as it was. The last thing he needed was to stay away with me for half the night, especially when there was nothing he could do. He couldn't comfort me and promise me that nothing bad would happen. The bad had already happened.

I woke flat on my back and covered with a sheen of cold sweat. My heart pounded and my mouth was dry. A gasp escaped from my lips and I sucked in air as if I had been running for miles. But, I stayed still as death. If I jumped around he would feel it and wake up.

So I lay perfectly still.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of him breathing. The deep long drawn out breaths, he was relaxed and sound asleep.

One of us needed to be sound asleep.

I could nap during the day, he didn't have that option with his work. I cocked my head and looked over at him. The moon cast light on the mattress and him,

curled up on his side spooned against me.

I couldn't move without shoving him off me.

What time was it?

I rolled my head the other way and spotted the red numbers that glowed from across the room.

3:28.

It didn't matter though. From outside came sounds of machinery, helicopters. I listened as they came closer and closer, until the window above our heads began to shake.

It woke Gordon. His made a soft noise and began to stretch out and curl closer against me. His arms tightened and pulled me closer. I looked back at him and his eyes glittered at me.

He was awake.

"What was that," I asked him, inching closer to him. Closer as I dared. Recently I had discovered the male sex drive did not sleep. The slightest movement at any hour would excite him.

"Chinook," he murmured.

His face buried against my neck and his lips brushed my skin.

I didn't ask how he knew.

Or how he knew half awake.

His palm flattened against my stomach and I flinched. Before I even realized what I had done I flinched. I flinched and he woke up.

He lifted his head from my neck and looked down into my eyes.

"You had a nightmare?"

"No," I lied.

I was a really bad liar.

"Angela."

Fine. I swallowed and wished I could have just sunk through the mattress and through the floor. I remained silent and he sighed, he inched closer. His breath seeped through my hair and warmed my skin, "You should have woken me up."

How I wished I had the courage to hold him close, hold him.

I wasn't that strong.

I didn't have the courage.

So I hid behind my true concern for him, "You need to get your sleep and not stay up with me at all hours of the night. Especially since I'll be here all day, you don't have anything to worry about."

He was quiet for a minute.

I waited for a response.

I waited for his answer.

If he were able to he probably would have tried to get even closer to me. His hand on my stomach began to move. His fingers slowly stroked my skin and he asked me, "You remember the night we escaped?"

How could I have forgotten?

"The night I promised that I would always take care a you?"

"Gordon, you've kept your promise..."

He cut me off, "Angela, my promise ain't conditional. I told you I'd take care of you always. I meant it too."

_"Gordon what are you doing? You can't be here! He might hear you and wake up!" _

_Tears streamed down my face as I pulled him in through my window. Awkward already, I was terrified too. I didn't want Gordon in trouble again. I didn't want him hurt again._

_Gordon shook his head._

_His long bangs hung in his eyes and he had a rope._

_"Angela, I don't care. We have to go. We have to leave. If we don't do something he's going to kill you once he finds out you're pregnant."_

_The tears continued._

_For hours I had been crying. Hours since I told Gordon over the phone. A day since I had done the math, figured out that I was pregnant. _

_Gordon ran to the door and listened._

_No noises came from down the hall._

_Then he looked to me and whispered, "How long has he been passed out?"_

_Hours._

_Since dinner._

_I covered my throbbing temple and thought about it. Gordon ran across my dark room and tied the rope to the foot of my metal-framed bed. I watched in shock, "Gordon?"_

_Gordon threw the rope out the open window._

_Then he came to me and pointed to the window. "Angela. One of these days he'll end up killing you. He raped you. You're pregnant. What will happen when he finds out? He'll kill you because he'll go to jail for this."_

_It was true._

_Even though I was young, thirteen, I knew he was telling me the truth. Gordon always told me the truth. He was always there for me. He was the only person that cared._

"_Look. I've given this thought. There ain't no way in hell I'm going to watch him destroy your life, and there's no way in hell I'll not end up in jail for killen him after he kills you. We have to leave. We'll be better on our own. I can take care of you."_

_I looked into his eyes and agreed, our lives could not have gotten any worse. His father was an abusive drunk who beat his mother and brothers. My mother dated a drug dealer who liked molesting me._

_We'd be better on our own._

I looked into his blue eyes and asked, "Gordon? Do you think we'll ever have a normal life?"

He smiled and told me, "I've seen normal. It ain't pretty. Which reminds me. Until we get this mess sorted out, you can't leave this base."

I blinked, "What?"

He propped himself up and began to explain, "From what my Captain told me, the district attorney charging **_him _**is on the hunt for us and allegedly found us here. He can't get on the base or question me without permission from my higher ups. Then, my captain forbade him from speakin to you, since he told the lawyer it would psychologically impact me, and that wouldn't be good. Now he ain't allowed back on the base and doesn't know enough about me to issue a warrant."

I stared, dumbfounded.

The law usually confused me, but military law was a horse of another color.

So Gordon simplified it.

"He can't touch you if you're on base."

He leant closer until his face touched mine and added for emphasis, "Don't leave the base. I'm gonna get some friends and clean out the condo, put our stuff in storage, and bring you the rest so you can work. You are not to leave this base. We have everything we could ever need here.


	6. Chapter 6

5.

A couple days passed and then the days turned into a few weeks. One my third week I had business to conduct. However, I had promised Gordon that I would not leave the base alone.

Damn me and my honor.

So, I pulled on a pair of jeans and long sleeve shift, tucked my newly crimson red hair up under a newsboy cap, and ran down the hall of the apartments flip-flops in hand.

I had shoes issues too.

I had no idea how Gordon tolerated me.

With my scrap of paper in hand, I found door 4B. Gordon had given me a list of acceptable babysitters should I have to leave the base without him.

The name on the paper belonged to someone named Hoot.

Apparently, his mother had been really doped up giving birth, or she didn't like him very much. I wasn't quite sure which. But there were three stars next to his name , which gave me hope.

Hesitantly, I knocked on his door. Hoping and praying he would be there. Praying he wouldn't be out with Gordon. He wasn't a sniper like Gordon. I knocked again and shrieked when the door opened.

Not because he scared me.

Or because there was a horrid smell coming from the inside of his apartment, something must have crawled up and died in there. Oh no, he was all but naked

in nothing more then a towel that left little to the imagination.

I looked straight at his eyes.

Which was hard since he was at least a foot taller then me. Well, everyone was taller then me to be honest. He rubbed his neck and pointed, "You Gordon's wife?"

Would he be offended if I stepped back?

I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

I had no desire to be anywhere near him, toweled or not. So I quickly told him why I had bothered him, "Gordon told me you would go with me off the base if I needed?"

Why were men so oblivious about being naked?

I might as well have been in hell.

"Yeah. A'ight, hold up. Lemme git some pants on. Y'wanna come in? Got some shit in the oven…gimme a minute."

I wasn't quite sure what he said. The southern accent was still a mystery to me at times. I was pretty sure he invited me in. Oh yeah, right, as soon as I put on a bikini and danced around a pole, I'd be in his apartment right after that.

So I stood in the hall as he went back in the foul smelling apartment.

Something had to have died in there.

Nervously, I waited.

I never moved.

A few minutes later he came on out in a pair of jeans so heavily starched they could have stood on their own, pulling a grey t-shirt over his lithe figure. He

was skinnier then Gordon.

He closed the door behind him and asked, "A'ight, Mrs. G, where you wanna go?"

**Sharky's**

The ride over reminded me of a roller coaster. I had no idea whether the man had even taken a course in driving, or was purposely intending to see exactly how many traffic laws he was capable of breaking behind the wheel, or if he thought playing chicken with pedestrians was fun.

I had no idea.

I prayed.

When he pulled into the parking lot of a tiny little town square, in front of Sharky's, the restaurant, I hopped out of his battered truck and thanked whatever deity was around that we had arrived in one piece, minus some paint.

Then, to my surprise, he held open the front door to the restaurant.

I eyed his suspiciously and quickly ducked under his arm.

Needing space between the two of us.

Also needing to be in the cool a/c. I was dying of heat in my jeans and long sleeve shirt. I scanned the tables and spotted the head of blonde hair already seated, a beer in front of her.

With Hoot at my heels I went over and plopped down across from her, being Holly, wicked witch of the west.

My friend.

My business partner.

My manager.

She helped me become a world-renowned artist with her cut of the profits. When I sat down she did not have a happy look on her plastic surgeonized face. Or it could have just been the face-lift.

I wasn't sure.

She had the same look when Hoot plopped down beside me and waved for the waitress. With her icy blue eyes directed back to me she asked, "Are you enjoying your vacation? You have orders from three galleries and a showing to arrange. Also there are three commissions for murals. You have work to do! That is just the urgent stuff, Angela. How am I supposed to visit you? I am not allowed past those damned gates and you're not answering the phone I gave you. You do know how to work the phone, don't you? Do I need to give you a instructional course on the workings of the phone?"

I took the manila envelope of notes and such she all but threw at me.

"And why are there lawyers crawling around the gallery?"

This got Hoot's attention, even though he was still trying to flag down a waitress, eyeing Holly's beer. I was almost afraid he'd just take it from her and drink it.

"Lawyers?"

Holly nodded, she tapped her red nail against the glass bottle, "Oh yeah. I told them they could kiss my ass before I told them where my artist was."

Weakly I sighed, "Thank you."

A perfectly arched eyebrow rose at me.

Finally a waitress came over. Holly quieted down as Hoot told the woman, "Yeah. Could I git a Corona wit lemon. Some of them wings that man has to go? Long with one of them subs that man over yonder has? To go ma'am?"

Holly then looked back to me.

She took in my ensemble and sighed, "It's a hundred damn degrees out. You realize that?"

"I'm comfortable," I lied, then asked, "Do you have my check?"

She nodded, "In there. I had some singer lady from Canada want to know if you would custom make her dishes if she sent you a piece of her wallpaper and paint chips?"

Sure.

Fine.

Money was money and it was my job. My art made more then Gordon in six months and kept me sane, "Have her send the chips and wallpaper to the gallery. I'll pick it up."

**Hoot's Truck **

I made sure I was buckled in the seat. I would safer with a five-point safety harness, but, beggars couldn't be choosers.

So I hugged my envelope and closed my eyes when he drove over a curb, ran a

red light, and made an illegal u-turn on a one-way street.

"So, you one of them fancy artists?"

I was beginning to understand his accent, a little.

I looked over and wondered if he could even seen through his dark sunglasses. I managed to nod, wondering if this it what astronauts felt when taking off in the space shuttle. "Yes, kinda."

Hoot turned onto a side street at a speed that was well over the posted speed limit, "Where the stuff at?"

What?

"Excuse…watch out for the cat!"

Hoot merely honked and added, "The stuff you make. Where you sell it at? What stores?"

The cat vanished.

I prayed it wasn't flat.

"Places all over. Harrods. Barneys. Private galleries all over…that's a red light…the world."

Hoot peered to the right and slowed down as he turned into and kind of merged into traffic.

I was going to die. I would die at the hands of a man named Hoot who could not enunciate his words correctly. Then, to my complete horror, blue lights appeared behind us.


	7. Chapter 7

6.

"Oh god...oh god...oh god! Hoot, why are you pulling over? Hoot, what are you doing? Oh god they're going to catch me. They'll take me back. You can't pull over!"

Hoot stared at me as he pulled the car into a parking lot.

A bewildered look upon his face, "What are you screamin bout? It's just the local yocals, girl. Ain't got nuthin better to do but pull base tags."

He didn't know.

He didn't understand.

I looked into his brown eyes and wished I had just stayed home.

Why couldn't Holly have just come to see me? Damn me and my need to please other people.

Hoot put his hand on my arm.

I screamed and jumped, smacking my head against the truck window. It was nothing but a simple touch and I scared the hell out of him, I could see it in his wide eyes. He held both his hands up, "Ok. Ok, I ain't gonna touch you. You gotta calm down for the cop gets here and sees you upset. A'ight? Understand?"

I buried my face in my hands.

I nodded and tried to calm down.

He was right.

I had to calm down. I had to get my act together before the cop came to the door, which would cause more trouble. I could calm myself down. That was not the problem.

"Angela?"

Again, I nodded, "I'm ok Hoot, I'm fine."

"Just follow my lead," he told me.

Ok.

I could do that, I was good at that.

I heard Hoot roll down his window and great the cop, "Afternoon sir, it's just me."

How did Hoot know the cop?

I looked over and saw a big man, a middle aged man that seemed annoyed at the sight of Hoot, the man had a accent to match, "Boy, what in the _hell_ are you doin? You know damn well what traffic laws are an don't you lie to me!"

With a wave of his hand, Hoot told the man, Officer Morgan according to the golden badge on his chest, "Sir, this here is my sister Marie Gibson, she is in the...motherly way. She's all crazy with those hormone creatures an stuff in her...you know women."

He was good, I had to hand it to him. It made me wonder how many times he had been in trouble in his life.

Officer Morgan looked to me, "How far long are you ma'am?"

I forced a smile and wiped at my wet hot eyes, "Long enough to feel like shit."

The cop laughed, Hoot laughed, and I pretended to feel like hell. Which wasn't exactly hard. I had plenty of practice over time.

Officer Morgan slapped the side of Hoot's door, "A'ight son, take her home and ma'am?"

I looked to the cop.

"You make sure to take them vitamins for the little baby. You wanna be sure to eat them Folic Acid ones. That what momma told my wife when she was with child."

Hoot looked to me and nodded approvingly.

**Later that afternoon…**

After Hoot dropped me off from the thrill ride that was his old Ford, and checked the apartment for my piece of mind. I gave him credit, he didn't once act confused or annoyed or even laugh when I asked.

Instead, he went through the entire apartment while I waited at the front door.

When he came out of the bedroom he held a mousetrap. There was a snake in the mousetrap. "Mind if I keep this," he asked.

When he saw the look on my face, he added, "Steele don't like snakes."  
All I could do was shrug.

Sure he could have the dead black snake.

He reached out to give my shoulder a pat on his way past, when I flinched he pulled his hand back. Naturally, I felt like the biggest freak in the world. So I quickly told him, "Thank you for taking me out today."

Hoot winked.

Then he told me, "Don't worry bout it. Gimme a hollar if you need me a'gin. I be outside for a while."

Right.

I would give him a hollar.

I watched him leave and locked the door behind him. Gordon sure had some interesting friends, harmless and dependable, but definitely unique.

Envelope in hand, I went to the kitchen. Not only was I thirsty, but the answering machine was beeping. I dropped my envelope on the counter, hit the button on the machine, and went to the fridge.

The first voice out of the machine was Holly's.

"Angela, it's me. I had a man from Elle magazine come by, he is interested in featuring you in a article. Call me! This would do wonders for profits…and your career. But just, call me, ok?"

Ah ha! A Pepsi, just what I needed. I kicked the door closed with my foot and opened the can. I would definitely call Holly to remind her I didn't do interviews.

Then the second message clicked on, and off, whoever it was had hung up.

I took a nice long sip of my soda and leant against the fridge.

What could I get done before Gordon got back?

The third message clicked on, followed by a stately voice, a accent voice from New England.

"Hi, this is Maurice Couch, I'm looking for one Angela Perkins or Gordon G. McCoy. If I have reached them please return my call at the law office of Couch and Henderson, 1-554-541-6258."

The can of soda fell from my hands and spilled all over the floor. It had been years since I had heard my maiden name, or Gordon's.

Why was a lawyer calling here? Calling us?

How had they found us on the base?

I quickly deleted all three messages. Maybe he wouldn't call back, I could hope.


	8. Chapter 8

7.

"Gordon? Could I ask you something?"

He had taken me out to dinner, to a wonderful bar a few blocks away from the base.

It was a classy place where you could toss your peanut shells on the floor. There was enough smoke in the air to more then constitute second hand smoke, and on occasion someone was getting into a fight.

It was an Army grill and bar.

In my paint stained jeans, white wife beater, covered with one of his green camo jackets I felt like the prettiest woman there, and that was saying a lot.

While he picked yet another peanut from the basket and began to crack it open, he knee playfully tapped mine, "Sure…ask away."

I smiled, he could always make me smile. I sipped my Pepsi and leant across the table so I wouldn't be overheard. Which probably wasn't going to happen over the yelling, chatting, music, and commotion; but I didn't want to be rude.

Gordon dropped his shell on the floor and leant over.

"Why is Steele so popular?"

Gordon's eyes traveled over to Steele, where he sat at the bar with his girlfriend, then he looked back to me. He ate his peanuts and spoke in a casual tone. "Why is Steele so popular?"

A grin began to curl on my lips, "Yeah." He was not in the habit of making me repeat myself.

Gordon's answer came slow.

Not because he was worried about Steele overhearing him. I don't think he cared to be honest. But he needed to think about his answer. Finally he trapped my knees between his and snatched my palm.

He had my complete attention.

"He's indecisive."

Indecisive?

That was a unique answer. One I pondered thoughtfully, which made Gordon pull me closer by my hand. He put his forehead to mine and told me, "He will get someone killed one day. The man is great at taking orders…just don't expect him to think for himself in a situation."

I innocently asked, "You don't trust him?"

A grin crossed Gordon's face. He could smile at the worst times. "Not with my life," he informed me. Then added, "I respect him as a fellow Sergant. I just don't want him watching my back."

A grin came over my face. It must had been contagious, "You trust that man…Hoot? The one who has the speech impedament?"

Gordon laughed.

If he had been drinking anything he likely would have spat it out. It made me so proud to know I could make him laugh. I watched him laugh and just enjoyed it. It wasn't often that I could make him laugh.

He held onto my hand.

His thumb weaseled into my palm and began to slowly stroke the callosued skin.

"Oh Angela…that's a good one. And yes. I would trust Hoot at my back. Which is why I have brought you here. I have something to tell you…something that needs celebrating."

Something that needed celebrating? I was all ears.

I noticed Hoot and another man coming our way though. Both men had beers and both had Army PT shirts on with jeans. "Are two guys meeting us here to celebrate?"

Gordon raised an eyebrow.

He turned his head and spotted the men and immediately flagged them down. The man beside Hoot was taller, thinner, weighed about ninety pounds and had ratehr bright reddish blonde hair. They moseyed on over to our table. I hopped up and ran around to Gordon's side, sliding in the booth beside him.

I didn't want to sit by wither of the men.

The skinny one spoke up, "Thought you're restricted to quarters."

Restricted to quarters? What?

I had plenty of paper money to spend.

Gordon flipped him off and looked to Hoot, all while he slid his arm across my shoulders. Hoot tossed my purse over to me. It landed mere inches away on the seat cushion.

"What are you two doing here? The Ranger Groopies don't show up till tomorrow."

Hoot sipped his beer, then he pointed the bottleneck at us, "We got bored. You know you got unfriendly eyes at two o'clock. We say 'em from yonder."

Maybe it wasn't a speech impedement, maybe he spoke an entirely different language?

That made sense.

"Really," Gordon's interest was perked.

The other man nodded. I had no idea who he was…and he had a fascinating face. A face I would have really liked to paint. "They've been…yonder…over at your two watching you for about forty minutes now. They have your picture."

Now I was really comfused.

I looked to Gordon, "What's going on? Who's yonder? What is two?"

Patient as always Gordon asked me, "When you were sitting across from me did you notice a man sitting by the jutebox watching us?"

We were being spied on!

Before I could move Gordon added, "Don't move. Don't look."

How was I not supposed to look?

"Gordon."

We both turned to Sanderson, all while Gordon pulled me closer to him. Till I was pressed against him and it felt nice. I didn't move or stiffen. I found myself inching closer to him while Sanderson added, "Why don't we send the Mrs's to the ladies room to see if he bites?"

Bites? I was bait?

I looked up into Gordon's blue eyes which were inches away, "Why am I always the bait?"

Hoot choked on his beer.

Gordon rubbed his nose to mine, "Cause you're the cutest out of us all."

I was the cutest? What kind of answer was that?

"He's right," Hoot agreed.

Oh fine.

There was no way I was winnning this one. So I turned and grabbed my purse. I crawled out over Gordon and managed to get my feet on the floor without killing myself. Go me.

With my head held high and my leather Armani purse flung over my shoulder, I then asked, "Where's the bathroom?"

Three hands pointed straight ahead towards the neon sign that had a naked woman on it.

Gordon only took me to the best places. I was so loved.

I headed towards the neon sign. Past quite a few Army Men who were more then a little topsy, some who weren't, and a few who were just plain drunk. They waved to me.

They gave me high fives.

A few even offered me a escourt to the ladies room.

Being the wife of a popular Ranger had it's perks, I wasn't going to lie. I made my way to the sign, down the hall, and towards the "Chicks" door. Which I bounced open with my hip.

Across the hall was the "Dudes."

Hooters wasn't even this classy.

I strolled into the smelly badly lit bathroom and to the mirror. I checked out my

face. Other then the dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep I didn't look too bad. My roots were showing. I'd have to get the red touched up. My newly acquired blue contacts were definitely different. I still wasn't sure if I liked them of not. Without them my eyes were just brown.

Gordon seemed to like them.

Then again, Gordon liked anything I wore. I had a feeling he'd say I looked great no matter what. It was undetermined whether or not that was a bad thing.

I stepped back in order to check my outfit in the mirror.

When the wall bounced!

It moved like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it! The mirror bounced off the wall, fell, and shattered on the floor!

I screamed and bolted for the door.

Stumbled, and ran right into the wall. That's what I got for wearing heels. Damn me and my love of heeled boots. I pushed myself back up and found the door, opened it, and quickly exited the bathroom to see all three men.

Hoot and Gordon had slammed a man into the wall. Hoot stood, pinning the man to the wall while Gordon patted the man down.

Sanderson was apparently the lookout.

I pointed, "Is that…is that the guy?"

Gordon was not gentle.

Rather rudely he pulled out the mans wallet and nodded, "It's him…one George Noth. Private Investigator…what a piece of shit."

Private Investigator?

My stomach fell. He was not the first private investigator to find us. But he was the first in years.

Gordon reached around the man's jacket. Naturally, the man tried to struggle. Hoot was a lot stronger then he looked. He pinned the man to the wall with ease while Gordon tugged out an envelope from the man's pocket.

At that moment in time the "Dudes" bathroom door opened and out walked none other then the Captain, their Captain. A little tipsy, but their captain none the less. He narrowed his eyes at us, "What in the hell are you three doing?"

It was the lookout-Sanderson, who so helpfully added, "Private Investigator sir. We're looking into the matter at hand."

Apparently that was enough.

With a nod of his head, the Captain continued on down the hall, "Good work men, carry on."


	9. Chapter 9

_Authors Note: This will be a short chapter. Sorry about the length, or lack thereof. Enjoy and review:)_

8.

I apparently was not allowed to watch the questioning of the Private Investigator.

Maybe I was too squimish?

Who knew.

Instead, I was shipped back out into the bar while the three boys played detective. Not that I was left to my own devices. Oh no. The Captain and his drinking buddies invited me into their poker game.

Not that I was complaining.

I got a few free drinks and made three hundred dollars. Not to mention I got to watch my husband and his two friends carry the man out into the parkng lot and dump him in the trunk of a car.

A car I guessed belonged to Sanderson.

It was after that when Hoot and Sanderson left in the mentioned car, with two extra Rangers, and a flare gun did Gordon come back in the fine establishment to pick me up.

He strolled on over to the table where I sat, counting out the cards to all the men.

His Captain waved him off, "Go on home Gordon, we'll bring her home."

The Captain was a tall, large, and stately black man whose last name was, no joke, Bond. Bond as in James Bond.

Gordon's skilled hands fell on my shoulders and he began to knead the muscle and it felt really good. Deck of cards in hand I looked straight up and into his face, "I'm busy."

His blue eyes scanned the drunken table, "I can see that." It was then he announced, "Boys. I need my wife…it is past my bedtime."

The announcement was greeted with jeers and boos. One Captain even threw a cigar Gordon's way. Had the cigar hit skin I would have been insulted. It just bounced off his t-shirt. I scooted over and patted the seat, "Have a seat babycakes."

A single gold eyebrow arched at me.

Always one for a good time, Gordon plopped down beside me. His arm hooked around my shoulders. While I continued to count out cards I innocently inquired, "Would you like in?"

"What game are we playing?"

"Poker," I beamed.


	10. Chapter 10

9.

It was three o'clock in the morning! Three o'clock! Three o'clock and we were just leaving the bar to head back to the base. In a matter of two hours Gordon had to go train on the rifle range and I had to get my roots touched up.

We both had big days ahead of us.

Buckled safely into my seat. I continued to scold Gordon, "and you didn't have to demand the money all upfront."

I knew Gordon was grinning like a bandit even in the dark. I could hear it in his tone when he told me, "Ang…sweetie, I did not make him pay me in cash."

No, Gordon hadn't.

The new weapon holster and watch that sat between us proof.

He put my new car in drive and drove through the parking lot at a high rate of speed.

"You're horrible," I accused, not referring to his driving ability, or lack thereof. As he somewhat yielded onto an empty country road in the dark, and then turned the headlights on.

He just laughed at me.

"Angela. Sweetheart. Doll. Princess. Baby. Darling. It is a man thing. If I did not demand full payment I would have appeared weak."

Uh-huh.

He set his free hand onto the console between us and steered the powerful new car into the curves. Going into the other empty lanes to even out the curves.

I reached over and laid my hand on his larger and warmer hand.

"How much cash did you get?"

Again he laughed.

He was so horribly behaved. It was wonderful. So I reiterated his list of endearments, "Gordon. Angel. Baby. Honey. Sugar. Sexpot. How much cash did you win?"

He did not answer.

He looked over at me, "Sexpot? Since when?"

My own smirk was huge.

Gordon glanced at the road and steered out of the turn. Just as headlights came around the corner, two headlights, and two cars in both lanes.

They were street racing.

The sound of brakes filled the night, along with my screams. Gordon yanked the wheel to the left, went through the metal guardrail and down a very steep embankment.

My head hit the window when the car rolled the first time. On the second roll the seatbelt burnt…it felt like it ripped a hole in my chest, between my breasts.

I began to scream and the car flipped, pulling me back, and yanking me forward.

When we hit the tree the airbags came out.

I heard the tree crunch and felt it break beneath the car. The airbag hit me in the face and that was it.

Sometime in the near future…

"Angela. _Angela_. Angela wake up, I know you can hear me, wake up. I need

you to wake up and talk to me. Now. Angela."

God!

Why the hell was he so insistent! My head hurt! I felt like shit and he wouldn't shut up. Why wouldn't he shut up?

"Angela, sweetie, you need to wake up for me. I need you to talk to me please."

It was then I realized there was fear in his voice.

Along with the fact my hands and wrists were wet and cold. Plus, I felt funny.

When I opened my eyes I realized why.

I was up side down.

There was a small stream running along the roof of my car, where my arms hung down and rested.

A light was shone in my eyes and pain seared through my damn head! I turned my head and felt pain. Where had that been my whole life! Dear God, who knew you could pull muscles in your neck.

All I could manage was a grunt.

"Angela…we need to get out of here. Ok? The firemen are repelling down. I can hear the ambulance coming. Can you move your toes?"

What the hell did my toes have to do with anything?

"What?"

"Oh thank God! Angela move your toes. Can you move your toes?"

I had to think about that.

Then I moved my toes, "Yeah. So. I can move them."

"Do you taste blood?"

It was then I realized something.

We had crashed.

We had wrecked.

The car was totaled around us.

We were upside down in a shallow body of water, in the middle of the night. It was then I panicked. I reached down and felt for the hook of my belt. I found it. But it was stuck. I couldn't open it.

We were in the dark and the belt hook wouldn't open!

"I can't open my belt!"

His hand covered mine. It was cold and wet too. "Angela, calm down. I can get us out of here. But I have to know you're ok. I don't want to move you if you're hurt bad."

Ok.

I could calm down. I could calm down. That wasn't a problem. I could calm down. His hand tightened over mine and I took a shaky breath. He repeated, "Do you taste blood?"

He shone the light in my face again.

"No," I winced.

"Does anything hurt or feel weird?"

That I had to think about. "My head."

The flashlight was still in my eyes blinding me. Gordon touched my face and

told me, "The airbag hit the side of your face. It's going to be bruised. You might have a concussion…I don't see any blood."

No blood.

That was a good thing.

"All right, Angela, hold my flashlight for me. I'm going to cut my seatbelt and then I'll get you out."

Ok, sounded good to me.

I took the flashlight and shone it on him. Blood trickled upwards from being up side down from a cut above his eye. Other then that I didn't see any wounds. He looked ok.

I heard him open a knife. Then watched as he put a hand above his head on the roof of the car, and cut the belt with the other. Bracing himself as he fell down into the roof and small river.

A hiss and swears followed.

"Are you ok," was my first question.

Gordon muttered something and then assured me he was fine. Like always. He then took the heavy metal flashlight from me and put it in the water. He positioned himself beneath me, "Put your hands on my shoulders."

I listened.

My hands fell on his broad shoulders. Then he told me, "I'm putting a hand on the inside of your thigh, to hold you, so you don't fall when the seatbelt is gone."

Ok.

"All right," I whispered, waiting for the touch. Now was so not the time for me to be weird and I really didn't care if anyone touched me. I wanted out of the car.

When he touched me I waited to fall. I felt him tug at the seat belt hook and then begin to saw at the belt there. It wasn't long before I was free. But, Gordon didn't drop me. With a grunt he lowered me down half on him and half in the water.

For just a few seconds I was dizzy. How long had I been up side down? Too long apparently.

When I was ok I began to move. Feeling cold water seep into my jeans and feet.

Where were my flip-flops?

Sadly, I never got to find my shoes. Lights were shone into the car and some fool began to ask if we were ok. Oh we were fine. We meant to drive off the road and bounce down the side of a mountain, oh we were good.

Thankfully, Gordon answered that question for us.


	11. Chapter 11

10.

I hated hospitals.

Not because needles scared me, or the prospect of pain bothered me. It didn't, it hadn't since a young age. But, in hospitals, you had to take your clothes off and people stared when I did that.

They would openly stare.

Even the nurses and doctors would stare because of my scars. Everytime they looked away and back at me they would see a new scar. It bothered Gordon. That which bothered Gordon bothered me.

When I was lead back to the room where Gordon waited the nurse was unable to tear her eyes away from the scars. She wasn't even being subtle about it.

Everything about the scars bothered Gordon.

The fact that they were there. How they got there. But the worse, when people saw them and then looked at Gordon as if he were responsible for them being there.

That pissed him off to no end.

When this particular nurse followed me in she looked at him, opened her lips, and was unable to say a word.

Oh yeah, that was going to do _wonders _to his mood.

She licked her lips and stammered, "The…the doctor…he'll be in shortly…there are security guards down the hall incase you need them Mrs. Gordon."

Even leant against the wall, looking calm and relaxed, Gordon looked ready to kill the young blonde Miss. America look alike.

I fidgeted.

I tried to get the gown to cover my bare butt. They were out of medium gowns so I was stuck with small, the other nurse refused to give me a large. There weren't enough and apparently my modesty and piece of mind weren't reason enough to her. Bitch.

Miss. America left the door open on her way out and I kicked it closed with my foot.

Then I walked over to Gordon, who looked about ready to eat glass. His blue eyes could have done damage. He managed to growl, "Commander Roscoe, Captain Finn, and some lawyer are here trying to get us transferred to the hospital on base before the other detectives show up."

I knew Finn.

He was a Ranger Capatain.

I didn't know who Roscoe was. "Whose Commander Roscoe?"

I was close.

Gordon could never resist touching me. He reached out and tugged me close by the stupid hospital gown ties, "Base Commander. They brought us clothes." With a nod he motioned towards the stretcher where a pair of sweats lay.

Grey sweats identical to what Gordon had on.

He tugged the strap of the gown till my bow came undone. He was very helpful. At that I scurried over to the stretcher and shook off the sorry excuse for a gown. I threw it at Gordon and grabbed the sweat pants.

I pulled them on and found they were a size or two too big. I pulled the cord

to tighten them and got about a foot of string. Nice.

Then I pulled the bulky sweat shirt on and found it was also two sizes too big. The word **RANGER** was printed across my chest too.

A nice touch.

I fidgited in the sweatshirt and found it went 6 inches past my butt. I liked it, plus it had a hood. I was so keeping it.

"What did the scan and X-Ray say?"

While I admired my soon to be stolen addition to my wardrobe, I reported, "Fine. Nothing broke. No concussion. Just bruises. I have a couple cuts so I can't get my roots done till they heal though."

"Good."

Good!

I looked at him, highly offended, "Good! Then I'll look cheap!"

No smile spread over his face.

He wasn't joking.

He walked across the room and inched up to me. Running his fingers gently through my tender scalp, "I forgot what color your hair is." He placed a kiss on my head, my forehead, between my eyebrows, and on the tip of my nose. "I don't care what color you hair is, or if you even have hair."

If he hadn't been so serious, I would have thought it was sweet. It did make me feel loved and all. But I knew he loved me. So simply wrapped my tender arms around his waist and buried my head in his chest. Breathing in the smell of dryer sheets and antseptic floor wash.

Suddenly I remembered he had wanted to tell me something. I placed my chin on his chest and looked up at him, "What were you going to tell me over dinner?"

He tried to smile.

It didn't work.

So he brushed stray strands of auburn hair away from my face, "I'm being recruited for selection."

Selection?

"Selection where Lopez is?"

A nod was my answer.

"Do you want to go to selection?"

He didn't answer me.

The door opened and in walked Finn and two men I didn't know, plus Miss. America and a doctor. Well weren't we just popular.

Captain Finn, a Hispanic man that could have posed for GQ announced, "We're leaving, now, lets go sergeant."

Gordon let go of me and took one of my hands that was behind his back, "Yes sir."

The doctor about lost his mind, "They cannot leave until I discharge them! They cannot leave until the detectives arrive!"

Gordon tugged me along as the lawyer, a man I had met on numerous occasions, began to argue with the doctor. The lawyer lived next door in our old home, the condo. He put up one really good fight.

Miss. America watched as if we had just run over her grandmother. She slipped me a business like card when I walked past her and out of the room.

Out in the hall I looked at it.

It was a card for a battered woman's shelter.


	12. Chapter 12

11.

The lawyer, Reese, was a very calm, neat, almost anally neat, Army Lawyer who I had my suspicions about. It could have been the perfect way he wore his uniform.

The stunning way his condo was decorated.

The BMW he drove in mint condition.

Or his roommate, a fellow Army man, a pilot, who shared all his traits minus the BMW, instead, the roommate drove a VW Rabbit.

Hint hint, wink wink, nudge nudge, they made the cutest couple and the best quiche.

However, on this night, he was not a happy man. It could have been the old stale van we were all piled into on the ride back to base, or the crime he just aided in.

Who knew.

But he was angry, he hung over the back of his bench seat just yelling away. "Will someone please tell me why I just helped you kidnap three people? And why, WHY, he needs a lawyer. I have seen you leave Rangers in jail on DUI charges Captain Finn, Sir, they didn't do anything illegal. Someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on."

I kept my mouth shut.

Let the men sort it out, there were four of them, surely they could work it out on their own.

"Sergeant Gordon and his wife are wanted by civilian authorities," Captain Finn so

helpfully explained, somewhat.

I watched the scenery go by as the sun rose. There was something charming about watching gas stations open at early hours.

Reese was beyond himself, "_For an accident he didn't cause, Sir?!_"

What a perfect way to start the day.

"No. Apparently, the Sergeant has had a…challenging childhood and it would be best if it was not plastered all over the news. Sergeant Gordon is a asset to the United States Army and has made it clear that he wants nothing to do with the district attorney, as did Mrs. Gordon."

Reese was even more confused, "District attorney? From where? Sir?"

The captain waved Reese off, "That's not important. It's your job to convince this lawyer, when she calls, that the sergeant and his wife are not going to cooperate in the investigation. Make her go away."

8:05 that morning…

There was a knock on the front door as I changed, made my phone call to Holly to intentionally wake her up, and made breakfast.

In my newly stolen grey sweat pants and a sleeveless shirt, I bounded through the small apartment. Phone on my ear. Frying pan in my hand as I peeked through the peephole on the door.

Reese stood out there like I had expected.

Reese had shut up on the ride home.

He had not been happy about it.

On the back of the business card Miss. America had given me I had written Lopez's address and slid it to him.

Reese was reliable.

Which was why I had made double French toast. I opened the door and let him in, "Good Morning."

"You better have coffee. And none of that nasty shit the Army considers coffee, I want the Kona Hawaiian Coffee you drink."

His briefcase was set on the floor and he strolled to the kitchen like he belonged there.

9:05 that morning…

After I fed him and shared some of my Kona Coffee. At $40.00 a pound, Gordon was not allowed to drink it. Gordon would drink any coffee, even gas station coffee.

Reese was a coffee lover like myself. Reese was allowed to have my coffee.

It was after we had a pot and he had made himself comfortable on the couch while I went to work starting my workday, he asked, "Tell me how much trouble you and Gordon are in."

I sat cross-legged on the floor going over a pile of orders Holly had given me. Without looking up I told him, "Gary isn't Gordon's name. He changed it. He changed his name, his SS number, and his identity before he enlisted."

"What's the name."

I read over Holly's horrendous handwriting. How did she expect me to read it? A two year old could have written better!

"Garren Elijah MacGordonson."

I heard the scribbling as Reese wrote that down. When I looked up at him he had a legal pad on the perfectly ironed and starched green uniform pants, and a pen poised, "How did Gordon get all this? His records never indicated any abnormalities in the paperwork and were never questioned. It's not easy to create a new identity, especially for runaways."

Since Reese was now our lawyer he needed to know. So I told him, "Gordon worked on a fishing boat and made friends there. A bunch of the sailors were special forces guys…one was a Seal whose wife works in the CIA."

"Isn't that nice," was all Reese said and I didn't comment.

Instead, I looked back down at my paperwork and let him question me to his hearts content.

"Where are you two originally from?"

"Goodrich Michigan."

Holly had to written something about dyed red silk.

"You both ran away? Together?"

"Yes."

Silk made sense, being as it was the only thing I dyed.

"How old were you both?"

"I was…twelve and he was…maybe…fifteen, fourteen at the oldest. I don't know,

he doesn't celebrate his birthday. I don't even know what year he was born in."

Not knowing my own husbands birthday. That was sad. If Reese thought so he kept it to himself and moved on, he did not waste any time with preliminaries, "Why did you two runaway?"

To say we were being abused just didn't do it justice.

I set the piece of paper in my hand down and pulled my knees beneath me. I looked up at him and told him, "Gordon's father was physically and verbally abusive. If we hadn't Gordon would have gotten himself in trouble and then jail."

There were a couple notes taken.

Followed by, "What about you? The two of you didn't move just because he and his old man butted heads."

No, Reese was right.

I licked my lips and then chewed on my bottom lip, "My mother's boyfriend gave me these scars. Gordon would have gotten himself killed trying to protect me."

Reese nodded and made a note, then asked, "The sick fuck that was on the news the captain made reference to a few hours ago?"

Gordon would certainly agree with that name.

"That would be him."

"Angela…from what you tell me…there is nothing substantial linking you to this man. If you don't want to testify, I can guarantee his lawyer won't argue. I don't see why the DA is so insistent upon getting a hold on you. There are three other girls this…creature has raped. One had an eyewitness and the other has strong

circumstantial evidence, do you have any idea why this woman is after you two?"

I had a good idea.

There was no easy way to say it. It wasn't like I couldn't say it. I had no problem saying it. I looked down at the burn on my palm, "I was pregnant when we ran away. That was the main reason."

Reese dropped the pen.

It bounced onto the floor and he gaped, he closed his mouth but couldn't control the shock in his eyes.

Great.

I felt normal.

I looked back at my fingers and dug at my nails, "That woman found the child and I guess she genetically linked it to _him_."

Reese picked up his pen.

"You gave the child up for adoption?"

I guess we did…somewhat. "We left the hospital a few hours after I delivered. A nurse adopted the baby. I told her there was a man that would try and find it, he would try to get rid of the baby. She left with the baby. We left. That was it."

It was amazing how detached I could sound. I didn't recognize my own voice.

"Have you seen your child since then?"

I shook my head.

I hadn't and didn't want to see her. "She has a good home. The nurse who adopted her is a good woman."

Reese tossed the pad onto the couch, dropped the pen on the coffee table and put his chin in his hands.

Thoughts danced across his face.

For a while we were quiet. Eventually he told me, "They will want a DNA test. They'll subpoena it if you refuse along with your testimony. Did Gordon witness anything?"

I stared at my painted toenails. "Our bedrooms were on the second floor and our windows faced one another. Gordon saw straight into my room. He hated that man so much."

Reese began to wince.

He pursed his lips.

Then he took a deep breath, "Ok. Let me figure this out. Stay on base and don't go anywhere."


	13. Chapter 13

12.

I didn't want to leave the base. Reese didn't have to worry. Instead, I wandered down to where Gordon would have been training. I didn't want to be alone for some odd reason.

So I cruised down to the range.

The ranger out front looked about as happy as a deer in hunting season to be there. At about ninety pounds with a head of flaming red hair buzzed close to his head, he never even glanced up at me.

"Yeah," was all I got.

I looked around and saw men going in and out of the building at ease. The secretary didn't seem to care. So, instead of signing in on his log, I asked, "Is Sergeant Gordon here?"

The man never looked up from his issue of "Rolling Stone."

I could have had a bomb strapped to me and he wouldn't have cared.

He pointed towards the door.

The door that was opened by an electronic keypad.

Oh good.

This shouldn't be too difficult.

I slowly wandered over and thank whatever deity was looking down upon me, the door opened. Before I could say I was there to see my husband, the Ranger stepped forward and held the door open for me, greeting me, "Morning Ma'am."

Jeez.

I loved the military!

I hadn't had to open a door on base in years. It was great!

I scurried in and thanked him profusely.

Once inside, I looked around the clean and battered halls. Where would Gordon be hiding?

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and looked for a map.

He had to train.

Gordon was a sniper. Logically, a sniper trained on a shooting range. Right?

I wandered down the hall listening for gunfire.

I didn't need him long. Just a few minutes. Where would he be?

Every last door appeared to be closed.

Where was everyone?

I never made it down the hall. Footsteps came from a door, a stairwell, and out came no other then the verbally challenged Hoot himself. The man was dressed from head to toe in camos and appeared to have wadded through a bog of some sort.

At the sight of me one of his dark eyebrows rose to an impressive angle, "Mrs. G, what you doin here? How'd you git in wit'out a code?"

I pointed, "The red headed ranger…"

Apparently that was all that needed to be said, Hoot began to sputter and swear, none too happy, not a fan I suppose. Quickly I asked, "Is Gordon around? I need to have a quick word…if he's not too busy."

Hoot's eyebrow rose even higher.

He cocked his head, "You lonely ain't you?"

For one so grammatically challenged, he was quite perceptive.

I kept quiet.

At that he motioned for me to follow. "Come on. I got me a sister married here. She keep you busy for awhile."

**A little later…**

Hoot's sister was gorgeous.

Not gorgeous in the high school cheerleader way. No, she was gorgeous in the exotic model sort of way. High cheekbones, dark eyes, dark hair, tall with a killer body.

Plus, she knew what looked good on her and used that to her advantage.

She pulled up to the building in an open-air jeep, hopped out, and gave me a hug.

Whether she noticed that I winced and tried to pull away was lost on her part.

She waved to Hoot and then took my arm, pulling me to the jeep. As she did so she just began to chat as if we were the best of friends and had known one another for years.

Maybe she was drunk?

Stoned?

I wasn't sure.

But I climbed into her car. Mine having been totaled.

I climbed into the jeep, which looked as if it had just been through the same bog as Hoot. She climbed in wearing nothing less then four-inch heels.

Black heels at that.

She looked at me and gave me a smile that I hadn't seen on anyone other then her brother. With an accent near identical to Hoot's she asked, "You a Ranger Wife too?"

I just nodded.

She hadn't stopped talking since she had arrived. Apparently she had a big day at the commissary.

"Who you hitched to sweetie?"

She had Hoot's driving skills. I quickly hooked myself in the seat, "Sergeant Gordon."

"G! Aw, damn girl, he's a cutie. How long you two been married for?"

I closed my eyes when she rolled through a stop sign.

Stevie Wonder had obviously taught her and her brother to drive. That was the only explanation. "A few years now…who are you married to?"

She steered the jeep onto a street that lead to another street, and then another that lead to married couple housing, "Sergeant Steele."

I blinked.

She was married to Steele? I had to think. Who had I seen Steele with the other night? Gordon had said she was his girlfriend. I remembered that because Hoot had been none too happy. I looked at her and prayed she didn't hit a mailbox, "I thought you two were just dating."

She missed the mailbox. Somehow. How, I had no clue what so ever. Oblivious to the parked cars on the street she informed me, with the flip of a perfectly manicured hand, "We weren't. We just went out drinkin the other night an woke up hitched. It's kinda fun bein married though. A girl could get used to it."

I was confused.

She steered her jeep onto another street, leading us deeper into suburbia.

More then grateful I strapped myself in.

I also prayed I didn't get in another accident. Two in two days, I did not want to beat my own record. I hung on for dear life. "Where are we going?"

"The Eversman's. Mama E has to run down to the high school, her boys are graduatin this year an are getting in trouble. One's even gonna join the Army. But, we gonna watch her baby for her."

Hoot sent me with his baby sister to baby-sit? His ass was mine! I didn't baby-sit. I didn't like babies. I didn't want a baby. Why would I watch one that wasn't mine?

Then she pulled into a driveway and slammed the brakes on. The bruise on my chest hurt like the devil. I was ready to kill the woman but she turned her jeep of and jumped from it in the heels.

Dear God, she was insane.


	14. Chapter 14

13.

Gordon rolled into the apartment around nine that night and was surprised to see a sleeping child on the couch. Especially since we didn't have a child. Or know anyone that had a child.

Gordon carried his weapon into the bedroom and set it on the mattress, beside me, where I sat knitting.

He pointed a finger towards the living room.

I continued to knit the socks I had been working on for the past hour. Two more sets and the order would be complete. I'd have the order filled by midnight. Damn I was good.

"Annette, Hoot's sister gave her to me to watch. She wasn't feeling well. That woman is nuts you know?"

He groaned and walked in the direction of the bathroom. Shedding articles of dirty, wet, and gunpowder covered clothing as he did so.

I paused.

The clothes would just ruin what was left of the carpet.

I looked over at the weapon. Which was spotless mind you. I rolled my eyes and set my project down on my pillow. In little more then one of Gordon's t-shirts and a pair of panties I quickly ran to the filthy clothes and began to pick them up, piece by piece.

The trail led me into the bathroom as he climbed into the shower. Just in time for me to see a huge purple bruise on his thigh.

It looked tender.

Probably from the other night and our trip off road. So I didn't say anything. I just carried the clothes to our two hampers. One was for Gordon's filthy dirty clothes only. I had grown tired of his clothes ruining my clothes.

His socks and t-shirt went in. Once I had dug through all the pockets on his pants and jacket finding little more the spent shell casings and a knife, I dropped the last pieces in.

The knife was somewhat clean.

The bullet casings were a different story. Oh well. I strolled over to the dresser and dumped the stuff there. Then I turned to the bed. The rifle was his. I didn't touch it. That was his job.

I wiped my hands on my nightshirt and decided to check on the child Annette had dropped by at dinnertime. No more then six, the little girl had been easy to entertain. I had given her some fabric and paint and she was good for hours.

Quietly I walked over to her.

She was asleep.

Blanket covered her and a teddy bear up under her chin. Her father, a ranger, a single father had night training. Apparently he'd be by to pick her up tomorrow afternoon, assuming Annette didn't stop by sooner.

I didn't touch her.

I didn't make sure the blankets were tucked in.

Though, she may not have ever worried about someone tucking her in. She probably never had to worry about her well-being. She was safe and she knew it.

I still didn't touch her.

I watched the little girl sleep so peacefully and at ease. It almost made me feel jealous even though I knew it was stupid of me. It didn't make me want children. It just made me feel like an even bigger nut since the little girl had more peace of mind then I did.

She let out a sigh.

I walked to the door and made sure it was locked, again, the third time that night.

The door was locked.

Gordon had locked it behind him when he came home.

He was so well trained.

Into the bedroom I went and then into the bathroom. Surprisingly Gordon was still in the shower. He, the king of the 5-minute shower. So I hopped up on the bathroom sink counter and kicked the door closed with my foot, mimicking what I had heard around, "G?"

There was a sigh.

A laugh.

Then he asked, "Yes, Mrs. G?"

Mrs. G? Wow, I felt so special.

"I spoke with Reese. He needed to know about some things."

Gordon was silent.

I heard him shake his head...water was slung through the cloth. Had Lopez not wanted to spring for the plastic shower curtain?

"What did you tell him?"

I didn't say anything.

I didn't need to say anything.

Gordon was quite perceptive.

The water was cut off and a hand reached out for a towel. Gordon stepped out with it wrapped around his body. After a quick tug to make sure it was in place he looked at me with those blue eyes of his, "You told him everything."

"I told him everything."

He stepped closer until he was pressed to the sink, his hands on either side of me on the sink top. Water dripped down onto the shirt and my bare legs and I never moved.

Whether or not he was going to say something to me, he didn't. He may not have intended to, or he may have decided against it. Instead he closed the short distance between our faces and kissed me. It was slow and drawn out, he took his time and never laid a hand on me.

My hands however, were an entirely different story.

First they were in his wet hair. Then they found their way over his shoulders and around his neck. Finally I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and I pulled him closer.

It wasn't long before his lips found their way down my neck, to the neck of his shirt. His fingers began to tug on the shirt. Pull it aside so he could reach more skin.

I surprised myself by wanting the shirt off. I terrified myself by telling him, "Take my shirt."

He blinked and then my shirt was lifted over my head and ended up on the floor.

My heart pounded and he kissed me again. He cupped my face and his wedding band was cool against my skin. His strong warm chest was pressed against my own, getting it wet from beads of shower water. A pleasurable chill coursed through me and I trembled against him.

He stopped kissing me and opened his eyes. They were so blue, they were so beautiful. My lips brushed his in a gentle kiss.

I wanted to beg him not to stop.

But, I knew better. He would do anything I asked. I wanted him not to stop of his own free will.

Against my lips he asked, "You're cold?"

No.

But I lied and nodded.

His hands moved downward and scooped me up off the bathroom countertop. At that he carried me into the bedroom and held me to him while he kicked the bed sheets aside.

Picked his rifle up and stood it up, setting it against the wall by the head of the mattress.

Only then did he set me down on the makeshift bed. He grabbed the sheets and wrapped them around us. Once he was satisfied he curled up next to me still in the towel, under the sheets, "Better?"

It was perfect.

I nodded and made myself comfortable.

This was perfect.


	15. Chapter 15

14.

It was late when the phone rang. It was very late. It was after one in the morning and sometime before four, when the morning was cold and dark and sent a chill to the bone.

It was then that someone dared call us.

I was not a happy woman for more then one reason.

1. It woke me from a dreamless sleep, a rarity.

2. It woke up Gordon, my personal heater, who was curled up behind me.

3. Someone would have to answer the phone. Since it was dark out that someone would be Gordon, and there went my personal heater.

He rolled over away from me and the phone stopped ringing, much to my disappointment.

Somewhat awake, I rolled over on my side, into the mattress dip his body had left behind. It was so warm and soft. My fingers curled under his back. Well…until he sat up.

He sat up so quickly he woke me up.

He was wide-awake.

Something was wrong. I could hear it in his voice which seethed out. Whoever he was seething at he was not pleased that they had called. I hadn't heard him seethe in years. But I wasn't about to interrupt him.

Instead, I merely lay in bed where I was and watched him.

As soon as he had answered the phone and woke up, he turned the phone off. I

didn't ask who it was. Oh no. When he reached over to the charger and ripped the phone line out, I decided to remain quiet.

Maybe it had something to do with work?

Oh what a glorious dream.

Nope. He turned and shook my leg through the blanket I was curled up in. He shook me until I pretended to wake up. Which told me it was most certainly not work related.

I pretended to be sleepy as I propped myself up on my elbows. Pushed my hair away from my face, and looked up at him, "What?"

Gordon pointedly told me, "That was a lawyer. Maurice Couch. Has he called here before?"

Oh.

That lawyer.

I couldn't lie to Gordon, I just wasn't able to lie to him. So I kept quiet. That worked.

"When did he call?"

God, when did he call?

I rubbed the back of my head, "The day Hoot took me to meet with Holly. Last week…I can't remember the day."

This did not appease Gordon.

"Why didn't you tell me? Angela, how did he get that number? No one knows where we are."

Ok, well that thought hadn't exactly entered my mind when the man had

previously called. Gordon definitely had a point.

A very good point.

A point I didn't have an answer for.


	16. Chapter 16

15.

Gordon left an hour before he had to. To do what, god only knew. Ten minutes after he left as I lay in bed wondering just how we had been tracked down, a little finger began to poke my bare shoulder.

I jumped and looked up at a child hugging a teddy bear. With big blue eyes she informed me, "I'm hungry."

I blinked.

Remembered that I was still babysitting and asked, "Can you make coffee?"

She shook her head and her short hair bounced, "I'm not allowed to turn the stove on."

That I had to think about for a second. Then I patted her barefoot, "Ok. I'll be right out."

Pleased with my answer, she turned on her foot, and pranced from the room. The sound of cartoons soon followed. Once the came on I sat up. I wrapped myself in the blanket and rolled to my feet. Quickly making it to my hamper I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and hurried into the bathroom, where my t-shirt was.

True to my recollection my shirt was on the floor.

Good spot for it.

I picked it up and saw the mousetrap. There was a spider the size of a small dog in the mousetrap! I stared at it. The spider was dead. It looked like the spider that one of the Rangers had lost a few days ago. The really expensive one from the breeder.

Hoot could have the spider.

I didn't want the spider.

I dropped the towel a pulled on the shirt. It fell to the waistband of my Hanes. In a matter of seconds I had the sweatpants on and was ready to cook. I rolled the waist down and hiked them up a little so I wasn't walking on them.

My fingertips ran over the skin of my upper hips that was slightly bumpy. I peeked down at the numerous little perfectly rounded burns. Like always, I counted them just to see if any had faded away.

There were still eleven.

None had faded anymore then they had years ago.

Some of my scars had faded to simple white ghost lines and others were still visible. Such were those. I checked their fellow burns on the other side of my waist/hip area. I counted up six different burns. They were rounded but more oval. Much to Gordon's disgust I called them the brother burns. On one side I had burns from cigarettes and the other side was burns from the lighter.

Gordon didn't find any humor in naming scars.

I had to, I had to find humor in something.

The voice that had woken me came from the living area, shouting oh so patiently during the commercial break, "I'm still hungry!"

I let the shirt fall over my pale skin that _never_ saw the light of day. I was the only fool in jeans and a dress shirt over my one-piece on the beach.

Then it was on to the kitchen.

**A little later…**

I had learned quite a bit within thirty minutes. I had learned that you could get paid very good money to catch snakes. A job I wouldn't want. But, I wasn't Jack Hanna.

The little girl, Ruthie, seemed to think he was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Then I learned that snakes could dislocate their jaws in order to eat bigger food. This was also unknown to me. It could have been I had a seventh grade education, or had never really studied snakes in-depth.

While the snake ate a pig and Ruthie watched literally at the edge of her seat, someone knocked on the front door. Pearl Harbor could have been reenacted and she wouldn't have cared.

I put my plate down and wiped my sweaty hands on my sweatpants.

Still in my jammies I scurried to the door and peeked through the peephole. A blonde woman was there. It wasn't Holly. Holly did not wear baseball caps.

Confused, I asked, "Whose there?"

Annette's thickly accented voice came through the door, "Me."

She must have just gotten her hair cut and dyed.

I unlocked the door and opened it. Letting her in. She looked pale and suddenly green. "You got a bathroom?"

I pointed to the open bedroom door, "Through there."

She all but ran for the bathroom.

Both Hoot and his sister were insane. I turned to close the door and saw a note on it. I ripped it off, closed the door, and then locked it. Muttering under my

breath about her oddities.

Oblivious to Ruthie. Who, peeked over the back of the couch, "She's usually pretty normal. Just when she's on her treatment she gets sick a lot."

Treatment?

The first thought that came to my mind was antipsychotics! She had lost her mind and was going to kill herself! I put the paper down and quickly made my way into the bedroom and then into the bathroom.

To my surprise she was not trying to go to Jesus. Instead, she was bent over the toilet sick as a dog. Her baseball cap and blonde wig on the bathroom sink.

What on Earth kind of treatment was she on?

She looked up at me and forced a smile. The top of her head as smooth as a baby's butt. I gave her a towel from the rack as she explained, out of breath, "This Chemo's hell. I been at it all morning, bout ready to start puking my guts up."

**A little later…**

I cleaned every last dish in the apartment. Opened every last window. I made sure all the food was put away and the trash was thrown out. So by the time she was done in the bathroom the apartment was free of any food or smell.

Ruthie even ran through spraying smelly stuff all around.

When Annette finally came out she had her wig on.

Was slightly paler.

And had managed to make herself smile a little. With a hand held to her chest she managed, "Thanks for watchin the little one for me. Last night was a bad

one."

I didn't want to ask. But I curious. She gave me a smile and continued to talk, "It's ovarian this time, but it is in remission, it's bout gone. My last treatment was yesterday."

She must have become good at reading faces. Lots of people asked right away when they were told you had a trauma or disease_. What happened? What do you have?_ Oh, and then my personal favorite, _Are you ok?_

I didn't ask any of those questions.

Instead, I asked, "You want some water? Gum?"

She began to beam.

At that I walked into the kitchen and watched her stroll over to Ruthie and plop down on the couch. She hooked her arm around the young girl who leaned into her embrace.

As I filled up a cup of water I felt that pang of jealousy. She was so secure. She felt safe. She knew she was loved.

**Later that day…**

It was close to two in the afternoon when the Ruthie's father showed up to pick her up. Afterwhich, Annette stayed at the apartment and watched from the couch while I got caught up on some of my work.

I assumed it was because she was tired. I had heard that Chemotherapy was very draining. But, I wasn't about to ask her much about it. Instead, I was more curious about a different something or someone in her life.

"How long have you known Sergeant Steele?"

She looked up at me with big brown eyes, "Mike?"

Mike?

I had no idea whether or not that was his name. While I continued to tape up boxes full of dyed silk and socks for a gallery out in Iowa, I shrugged, "I suppose."

Mike was not one of the names that I had heard the boys call Steele.

She began to wiggle her toes.

Her cold toes that were now covered with bright pink socks. "Almost a week."

I looked up from my packaging.

Unsure if I heard her correctly, "Beg pardon?"

Annette smirked, she rubbed the corner of her temple at her hairline or wigline. "It was more of a quickie drunken wedding. But, he's grown on me and I suppose I have on him. We haven't gotten around to signing the anullment papers just yet."

They already had anullment papers printed up and hadn't signed them. My interest was drawn to attention. I grabbed the packing tape and started t close the first box up, "It was just a drunken thing while visiting your brother?"

She laughed.

It was a true laugh. She rolled around in the couch enjoying some inside joke. She had a full laugh that reminded me of Hoot. When it came to a stop there was a huge smile on her red face. She inched back against the pillow and contined to speak, "No. No sweetie. I was datin a different Ranger man and found out when I came up here he was cheatin on me with some lil Ranger Groupie."

Ranger Groupie? I had heard of them and seen them at the Wal-Mart. They were even wenches. I could see how one would or could steal a unsuspecting Ranger away. A warmth of fear spread through me. What if Gordon met a Ranger Groupie who was not as messed up, someone who would baby him instead of the other way around? I felt sick.

"Babycakes don worry. I've seen Gordon shoo off them groupies. He don't want nothing to do with them. They prane all round him an he don't even look once at them. Like they don't exist."

When I gave her a smile she winked at me. Then began to inspect her nails, "So. I went out to that lovely tavern place to drink the pain gone and woke up butt nakked with Steele!"

Well! That was one way to get even…I guess, "What did Hoot think?"

She giggled, "He bout lost his damn mind."

"Who Hoot," I teased, getting back to the task I had at hand.

"I know, what with him being Mr. Subtlety and all. He is all for the anullment. But Steele an I got us some chemistry. So we are gonna see what happens."

Well, that sounded fun.

I kept on taping, "Think you'll stay married and have little ones?"

She sighed.

I looked back up, I was never going to get anything accomplished. In a few hours I had a doctor appointment too.

"Don't know bout the first…don't have to worry bout the second. Done had enough chemo I can't get knocked up. The ultimate form of birth control I reckon."

She reckoned.

She didn't seem too upset about it. But then again, I could detach myself quite easily from a bad subject.


	17. Chapter 17

16.

Prior to my doctor appointment, I needed some supplies. So I had Gordon stop at the Wal-Mart so I could pick up a few things. I needed a couple big brushes. A tin of turpentine. Some cookie cutters. Then I needed a new roller for my paint roller.

Professional Artist thingies. I was up-town.

While I got the cookie cutters I gave him a job and sent him to go get me the paint thinner and roller. Gordon needed to be kept busy like all men when in a store. Like all men, he could get annoying as hell.

Therefore, he got a job.

I, however, got some weirdo following me all around the store.

He appeared when I was giving Gordon his instructions.

The man reappeared when I was picking out cookie cutters. He was a weird looking man too. Like someone you'd see on the news. A serial killer or something. He just set my spidey sense off.

I couldn't figure out why he was following me around! I wasn't wearing skimpy clothes. I had pulled on jeans, my flops, and a long sleeve shirt paired with a bandana since my roots were showing.

He was a short man.

Not that I had a dislike for short men. But he was pudgy around his belly and I didn't like that. I didn't like having pudgy bellies touch me. He was in his thirties and had greasy hair.

Plus odd yellow eyes.

I didn't even bother to get any cookie cutters.

I wanted away from the weird little man.

So I high tailed it in my flip-flops that made clunking noises the whole way across the store to the craft area, where they had a wide assortment of brushes.

However, I was momentarily distracted by the movie area.

I looked around the shelf to see what new movies they had.

Gordon liked funny movies.

My eyes scanned the covers looking for anything he might have mentioned. When who appears in the music section not twenty feet away?

Weird creepy man!

Weird creepy man wouldn't look at me, but it was too much for me.

I scurried off.

I cut through a clothing area, found a nice black tank top in my size that I grabbed. I weaseled around in the hopes of getting away from the man. In the process I also found a pair of jeans.

Go me!

I made a seven digit yearly income and shopped at Wal-Mart. I was really messed up.

A belt caught my eye! A belt that appeared to be leather, though I doubted Wal-Mart carried such items. I cruised on over and then, to my great horror that man appeared!

He just casually walked by.

That was enough Wal-Mart for me.

I dropped everything and decided it was time to find Gordon and go to see the shrink. In my flops I ran around looking for Gordon in the places I had sent

him.

After a search of the painting supplies and thinners I found him in the gun department. Of all places, go figure.

He was admiring bullets.

I ran up to him and grabbed him arm while he read the side of the box as if it were an Army Sniper Manuel. Which is the only thing I had ever seen him actually read. He was one to just skim or power read.

I looped my arm through his and gave him a tug, "Ok. Lets go."

He looked at me bewildered.

He had everything he was in charge of getting. Gently he set the box of bullets down on the shelf, "What's wrong?"

Like I was going to tell him. Last time some guy hit on me Gordon broke the man's nose and spent the night in jail.

For being so patient with me, he didn't need much of an excuse to get physical when I was upset. Infact, I think he enjoyed getting in the occasional fight with someone.

It helped him work stuff out.

I pulled him.

He didn't budge.

"Angela?"

He read my face like a magazine.

"Did someone touch you?"

"No no no…come, I just want to go."

Then the creepy man appeared at the end of the aisle. A mere fifteen feet away.

I saw him.

Gordon saw me see him.

Creepy man continued onward.

Gordon, a very smart man added two and two, he gave me everything in his hands and walked after the man. Damn! Not again! I dropped everything on the shelf because we were about to get thrown out of another store.

There were four stores we were not allowed in because of Gordon.

I ran after him, "Gordon! Wait!"

He didn't listen.

By the time I came out of the aisle he had already knocked the man into a display of jugs full of paintballs. There were jugs everywhere!

Gordon grabbed the man by his neck.

It was then the man decided to defend himself and throw a punch at Gordon. I froze knowing there was nothing I could do.


	18. Chapter 18

17.

The cold steel of the handcuffs sent chills down my spine and made me tremble. I hated handcuffs. I hated my hands being bound. I hated being bound to begin with. There were too many memories where my hands were bound and I would have gladly forgotten every last one of them.

I didn't like being pulled around either.

And I especially didn't like getting separated from Gordon while in Police Custody. I didn't like interrogation rooms to begin with. I didn't like creepy rooms at all.

The chair was uncomfortable.

My hands were behind my back and I couldn't stop trembling. I had no idea where Gordon was. The last I had seen was him fighting with three cops as they tried to get him handcuffed in the Wal-Mart. It wasn't working very well for them. Gordon had been quite angry.

Even so often I swore I heard him yelling from somewhere within the police station.

A few times a cop would come in the room and try to talk to me.

I kept my mouth shut.

Not that I had anything against cops or was under arrest. Oh no. I just kept my mouth shut because I had no idea what Gordon was telling them. There was no doubt in my mind he was telling them something and I wasn't going to be the one to give them a reason to disbelieve whatever lie he was feeding them.

Since I had left my wallet in my purse that was in the apartment, I was good to go. Gordon had his wallet and his new identity. We were clean. There was no reason for me to talk.

I stared at the cops and listened as they asked for my name. They asked what happened. They told me I wasn't in trouble. They offered me food and drinks.

I said nothing.

It was cop number six that came in and took the handcuffs off me. In the process of the door opening and closing I could hear Gordon yelling for someone to call his Captain. While it didn't give me much to run with, I at least could say something.

Cop number six closed the door and walked behind me. I stiffened and tensed when he touched my arm. Even though he was just unlocking the cold steel around my wrists I couldn't help myself.

I was shaking like a leaf and knew I wouldn't be able to stop anytime soon.

Wordlessly he put the handcuffs in his pocket and walked around the plain table. He sat down across from me and I noticed he had a big nose. He was white. Maybe he was a drinker or of English descent. His nose was huge. If mine was that big I would have it fixed by a plastic surgeon. He was a middle-aged man with normal looks. Harmless looking.

He put a piece of paper on the table.

I didn't touch it.

Instead, I pulled my feet up on the chair and my knees under my chin, with my newly freed hands I hugged my legs. I fit so perfectly in the hellish chair while

I trembled.  
The man looked at me and I held his gaze.

Finally he told me, "Mrs. Gordon, you are not in trouble. The man your husband assaulted is wanted on fourteen felony counts. He's known as the Wal-Mart Rapist. If your husband had not noticed him you very well could have been his next victim."

Not so much as a labored breath came from me.

Cop number six continued, "He probably won't even be charged with anything other then disorderly conduct and your attorney will probably get him off without a fine due to the circumstances."

That was peachy and all.

However, due to our colorful past, I had more then my share run-ins with law enforcements finest. One was not left handcuffed in an interrogation room if they were free to leave at anytime and there was no business left to conduct. It just didn't happen. We would have been able to give our statements and go on our merry way.

There was something else going on.

Cop number six pointed to the paper, "This is the man's wanted poster if you don't believe me."

Honestly, I didn't care who the creep was.

"Mrs. Gordon let me tell you why I have asked the police to bring you in. You see, I am a detective with the Goodrich Police Department in Michigan and I have been looking for you and your husband. You're both wanted for questioning in the investigation of one Arthur Lancaster, I believe you are familiar with him?"

Wow. It was like the room temperature dropped a good thirty degrees. Now I was cold and trembling. A feeling of nausea came that threatened to overtake me.

Cop number six reached in his cheap blue jacket and showed me a picture.

It was my old school picture.

Then he showed me what appeared to be a computer aged enhanced picture. I didn't look half bad.

He so helpfully added, "The officer who detained you happens to be one of the few who actually look over wanted posters."

Oh, wasn't I the lucky one. I get Super Cop. Thank you Murphy, your law is so working out for me. I needed a Murphy's Law Plaque or something. I had to be the award winner for that law.

I bet it was a nice plaque.

The cop then added, "The two of you are pretty difficult to track down."

Well obviously not hard enough. Though I kept that to myself.

Realizing he obviously wasn't going to get much out of me. I guess he decided to go for shock value, or prove I was safe. Who knew. He placed a picture on the table.

I caught a flash of orange.

I knew what it was, who it was, and I didn't want to see it. I held his eyes and refused to look at it.

"He is in custody and has been refused bond."

I knew that.

Gordon had watched every last news show on the man's arrest. He had read every paper he could find. Of course he tried to hide it from me. Gordon tried to hide a lot from me.

All with good intentions I was positive.

"There is no possible way he will be let out of police custody before the trial. We can protect you."

I almost laughed.

If I hadn't felt so cold, so sick, I would have laughed. Instead I felt numb. I knew I was numbing myself. Making myself cold so I didn't have to deal with it, accept it, or even look at it. It was my way to deal with the man. It had been years since I made myself numb. But I could still do it at the drop of a dime.

I stared at the cop and felt nothing.

I looked at the picture and felt my stomach turn. He was the same as I remembered from the nightmares. Short. Stocky. There were sores on his arms from needles and always a smile on his face. Like there was some great secret and only he knew the answer.

I looked at the picture and wanted out of the room. The picture put me too close to him. I couldn't look at it. So I reached out and turned the picture face down. Then I wrapped my arm back around my legs.

"He killed your mother."

Was that supposed to surprise me?

He was trying to get a reaction out of me. I wasn't stupid. I may not have been book smart, but I hadn't survived on the streets just because of Gordon. I hadn't become a victim twice just because Gordon was there to protect me. He had helped. But he wasn't there all the time.

"Mr. Lancaster stabbed your mother forty times because she did some of his Heroin."

Oh how I wanted to correct him. How I wanted to tell him she was not my mother. She was the woman who gave birth to me and that was it. Gordon had a mother.

Should her death have surprised me? Or even upset me?

Quickly I told myself I didn't care. She didn't care about me in my life, I didn't care about her in her death.

"Mr. Lancaster then moved from state to state and continued to move in with single mothers. He continued to get them to deal drugs, like he did your mother. And he continued to abuse their daughters. You are not the only one. He was at this for thirty years."

Good. Then they would have sufficient evidence and I wouldn't feel bad about refusing to testify.

To my great horror he put a picture on the table of a little girl.

"You are the only girl he got pregnant."

I couldn't look at the picture.

I was a horrible person, I knew that. I put my legs back and pushed the chair backwards. I couldn't look at the picture. I scooted the chair back until it

bumped into the wall.

I couldn't be near the picture. I couldn't bring myself to touch the picture, more less turn it over.

I wasn't talking before and I assume he realized I sure as hell wasn't talking after that picture. So he then told me, "If you cooperate your husband will be left alone. Think about what his indiscretions will do to his career in the Army if we dig into your past. I'm sure he had stolen things. Broken into buildings. Destroyed property in order to survive on the streets until he became old enough to do something. The American Army does not like criminals."

He was trying to use him against. Like that was original. Like no one had ever done that before.

Now I was pissed off too.

I was cold. Scared. Trembling. Sick to my stomach and pissed.

Finally I spoke, "I want to call my lawyer."

Well, he didn't want to be nice anymore either apparently. "I have a subpoena for a DNA sample. If you refuse I'll arrest you for concealing a crime and obstructing an investigation."

Fine, arrest me, I didn't care.

I expressed that thought to him, "Kiss my ass."


	19. Chapter 19

_Authors Note: I am still learning about the many complications of the American Legal System. So any mistake is mine. Sorry. Let me know if it is huge so I can correct it! Thanks!_

18.

For the first time in all the years Gordon and I were on our own he bailed me out of jail. Which was just a super change. Not only had I gotten to spend the night in county jail with six women who had seen more jail time in a month then I had in my life.

I did get two numbers though.

Apparently I was cute.

I was too pissed off to care about their come hither looks. I had been arrested. Booked. Photographed. Inked. Entered into the system. All my jewelry was taken along with my clothes. I had to wear some hideous pumpkin jumpsuit and a pair of plastic sandals.

Sandals I had seen people wearing freely! They were just obscene.

In those nasty clothes I had to wait in a cell for my first appearance. I was not a happy woman.

Not that I wasn't in good company. Oh no, my cellmates were the cream of the crop. There were two biker women who gave me looks like I was an issue of Playboy. They were the reason I stayed up until Reese appeared before my First Appearance. There was also a girl whose girlfriend was in the next cell, they were fighting nigh long about a girl named Niki. Then there was a woman who found out her husband had been cheating so she cut his happy place off. A shoplifter. Then the candidate for _mother of the year_ in my opinion.

She had found out her boyfriend was touching her son. So she covered her sleeping boyfriend in gas and lit him on fire. She should have been given a medal in my opinion.

That was just me though.

So, there I sat in the cell, on the floor, watching everyone, keeping my mouth shut all night long. There was no earthly way I was sleeping. I watched the clock and counted down the hours until my court date.

It was close to seven when a guard appeared and summoned me. He opened the cell and I was again handcuffed.

I hated handcuffs.

But I kept that thought to myself as I was led to a room where Reese waited. In his uniform to my surprise, I had assumed he'd wear a suit. But I wasn't about to complain.

I let the guard un-handcuff me and then leave.

Reese waited until the door was closed, and then he did not ask me how I was, or what happened. On no! He told me, "Your husband is the worlds biggest pain in the ass. Do you realize that?"

Yes I knew that.

I rubbed the cold spots on my wrists. Still in a mood since yesterday. Perceptive as ever, Reese sat down across the table from me. The room was plain and

hideous as the interrogation room. But the company was better.

"Angela, I spoke with the district attorney in Goodrich and she has agreed to drop all the charges on the agreement you give a DNA sample."

I made a face.

I wanted this to be gone, over, behind me.

"If not, you will be extradited. You'll get a civilian attorney who will gladly take your case. This is a civil rights activists dream. It'll be all over the papers…which I'm pretty sure you don't want."

The man was right.

Which further irritated me. I didn't like being backed into a corner.

"Look, I know you're pissed, I would be too. But you have a choice. Testify in a court case or be the defendant in one."

He knew what my answer was before I gave it to him. So I asked, "How's Gordon? Is he ok? Is he at the apartment?"

Reese made a face, "Oh he's fine. I haven't met a man so irritating or needy since my last boyfriend. Sanderson spiked his soda around three in the morning so the building could get some sleep."

Gordon became a pain when he was worried.

Reese then asked, "You wouldn't know how a copy of a Subpoena found it's way inside of your apartment.?"

At first I was confused and then I remembered the piece of paper taped to the front door that I had found. That would have certainly set Gordon on a tirade that would have only ended with medication.

**Later that day…**

I never made my first appearance.

The charges were dropped thirty minutes after I met with Reese. An hour later I

sat in the medical area on a stretcher while some seventy something year old nurse swabbed my mouth.

She dug at it with a q-tip like she was digging for gold. I half expected her to

hit my tonsils.

When she was done she put it in a plastic container and motioned that she was done.


	20. Chapter 20

_Authors Note: Hi! If I don't update for the next week it's because I am taking my finals. No worries. I'll be updating on Saturday or there after when the finals end._

19.

Reese drove me home to the apartment and I could not stay there. I couldn't stand to be by myself and Gordon wasn't anywhere in sight. I didn't want to be alone.

I wanted company.

So I locked the door and went upstairs two floors. I wandered down the hall looking for the door with the crack in it. It was Steele's door. There was a crack down the middle from Hoot. From what I had heard he had not handled the news of his sister's marriage very well.

I found the door that was held together with duct tape.

I began to knock.

Voices came from inside, I could hear them. Just the sound of friendly voices made me tear up. My eyes began to burn and my breath hitched. When the door opened and a pair of green camos appeared I let out a wail and hugged the figure.

Gordon wore camos like that.

The body in the camos was warm and smelled nice like cologne so I hugged him and began to sob and wail like my world was coming to an end. I buried my face in the warm chest and cried like a baby.

I was too tired to hold it in.

I felt the body tense, then yell, "Annette! Someone is here for you!"

A few moments later she peeled me off her husband and told him, "Finish

making dinner, would you?"

She hugged me and led me into the apartment to the couch. Where I promptly collapsed and began to hysterically tell her what had happened. I told her _everything_.

Before long she was crying with me.

The two of us were hysterical.

We cried, we hugged, we sobbed and went through a box of tissues. By the time I told her what had happened at Wal-Mart and my evening and then my deal with the Goodrich DA, we were hysterical and angry.

Steele stared as if we had lost our mind.

**Later that evening…**

After a few good hours of crying we were good. We had eaten all the ice cream in the apartment and had moved onto the fruit and whipped cream, while we sat on the couch watching "Will and Grace."

It was such a funny show.

Mr. Steele didn't think so. The man must have thought I was a nut, every time I looked at him he looked at me as if I had a third head.

Since I was in an emotional state, I leaned over and whispered into Annette's ear, "He's looking at me funny."

Annette finished sucking on her strawberry. She then looked to her husband who was seated on the floor, since the purple couch was the only piece of furniture, and we were spread out on it. "Mike. Baby, we're out of ice cream."

He looked at her as if he were confused.

Annette continued, "The commissary is still open."

His eyebrows rose.

To which she added, "Do you have enough money? There is a twenty in my wallet."

Steele took the hint.

He looked puzzled. As if he thought he should argue, but knew better. Slowly he got up and walked to the door, carefully, as if he were walking through a minefield.

Once he was out Annette took a bite out of her strawberry, "I'm still training him. He comes from a family who raised him to believe that he has an opinion and it is valid."

Really, that sounded interesting.

Steele was still in training. How peculiar, "How is the training going?"

Annette picked another strawberry from the bowl between us and then dunked it in the cool whip on her lap. I had the chocolate syrup. Happy with the amount of white whipped topping on her strawberry, she told me, "At first he was resistant. Then he found out what his rewards are…since then he has been very open to my suggestions."

I could not help myself. Since I was feeling a little better. I asked, "Could you suggest new furniture?"

Strawberry near her lips she looked around, "He's got horrible taste doesn't he?"

He did.

All men did.

Which was why Gordon was not allowed to help me decorate.

"How did you train yours so well?"

How did I train my what so well?

"What do you mean?"

Annette nibbled on her berry, she itched the back of her neck. "How did you train Gordon? I've been watching and it seems if he thinks you want something done or bought, off he goes. It's impressive."

Impressive. I had never even thought about _ Impressive_ and our _Relationship_ being used in the same sentence. All I could think of to tell her was, "We've been together a really long time."

That answer made her happy.

I squirted some chocolate syrup on a strawberry and chewed on it. The mix was really good! I was going to have to get some syrup and strawberries at the commissary come morning.

Gordon would like them too. He was always up to try anything I created in the kitchen.

Then she said something that made me choke on my strawberry.

"I bet the sex is just fantastic."

I continued to choke and she looked at me. Her eyes widened and then narrowed in shock, "You're not having sex with him are you? No wonder that man is always right at your feet."

I was quiet.

She cocked an eyebrow.

Making sure I was able to breath and the strawberry was not lodged in my throat.

Annette hoped up to a sitting position, "You two _aren't_ having sex? At all?"

I stared at the strawberry as if it were the Mona Lisa.

"Oh My God! You aren't having sex! Why? Have you seen that man without his shirt on? You know what the groupies call him?"

No.

I didn't know what the groupies called him! "What do they call him?"

Without shame she told me, "Sergeant Hot-Body."

A blush crossed over my face.

I felt the burn of the blush.

I was married to Sergeant Hot-Body.

Her foot touched my own, "Angela…you have explaining to do."

"We do other stuff!"

Her eyebrow rose to impressive heights, "Other stuff?"

"Yeah," was all I could think of to say. Eloquent, I know.

"Angela as much fun as all the other stuff is…call it pecking, making out, foreplay, whatever…the main act can never be substituted."

Ok, I understood like half of that, "You mean fornication?"

She stared at me as if I had just spoken French. "Fornication? What is this? Sex Ed?"

I looked at the bottle and made a face. "We're working on it."

Thank God I didn't have to specify because there was a knock on the front door. Without getting off the couch Annette shouted, "Come in!"

She did that without even asking who it was! Which shocked me! Then I remembered she didn't have to worry. It was normal to let people in your apartment.

Well in came her husband, my husband, and Hoot.

Her husband pointed to me, "There she is. You can take her home now."

Hoot walked around Steele, who from where I was sitting looked as if he were trying to block his entrance into the apartment. Hoot just strolled in and made his way into the kitchen, on the hunt for food.

Steele looked flustered,

Gordon also came in, he came my way, face full of worry and relief. "Why didn't you call me when you got back?"

I don't know.

I looked to Annette who held up the cool whip, "We had a girls picnic."

I don't know what sort of look passed over Gordon's face. I had never seen the look before. He then turned to me and took the bowl of strawberry tops from my lap and bottle of syrup from my hand, "Come on. Lets go back to the apartment."

I got up but took the syrup and told Annette, "I'm taking this."

Annette held up the cool whip, "Want this?"

Gordon was getting annoyed. I could tell. For one he was helping me off the couch and I could get off the couch on my own. Then he added, "We have cream in a bottle. You can use that, lets go. I'm tired."

Gordon never admitted weakness.

Steele spoke up, "Annette, they have whipped cream. We need that for later."

It was at that point Hoot started to choke on whatever he was eating in the kitchen.

Then Steele got upset, "Hoot, don't cough over the pot…we are going to eat that tomorrow."

Having enough, Gordon grabbed me from my behind and picked me up with ease. He then carried me out through the apartment. I waved to Gordon and Steele. Closing the door behind us. The last thing I saw was Hoot trying to catch his breath after the trauma he had just experienced.

Sadly, we never made it down stairs.

Gordon, who was tightly wound up, obviously stressed out from his day, set me down on the floor not ten feet from the door. I thought I was going to get a lecture about telling police officers to kiss my ass, or something related.

Nope.

Instead he kissed me. Pressing me up against the thin wall. His hands were all over the place. They were in my hair. They were pulling me closer by the belt-loops on my jeans. They were even on my stomach and inching up to my bra.

Thank God I had on the pretty black one.

Before my hands made it all the way down in his back pockets, the door opened and Hoot came on out yelling up a storm. "Y'all are sick! You dun messed up my baby sister! I'm gettin on the phone an callin mom!"


	21. Chapter 21

20.

I was starting to think Annette had a profound influence upon me for some odd reason. A reason that I didn't know. But, for the first time in…I don't know how long, forever I think, I was the comforter not the comfortee, and it was great.

We got back to the apartment only because Hoot had suddenly become the living expert on all that was moral and holy. I suppose that learning his sister was sexually active with her husband was a shocking blow for him.

Go figure.

But, it was not my job to comfort him. I had my own upset Army Ranger to deal with. I let Hoot go call his mother while I gave Gordon a good shove through the door, locking it behind us.

To keep us inside and safe from anyone that would do us harm…and the wide assortment of grown men that for some reason found it ok to just stroll in someone's apartment and prowl the fridge at all hours of the night.

No sooner had I gotten the door shut and all three locks slid into place, Gordon had gone back to being concerned and worried. He was much more fun when he was needy and frisky. But I kept that newfound observation to myself.

Then I turned to Gordon, who looked quite nice in his camo attire. Again, he wanted to know, "Why didn't you call me when you got home? Reese knew where I was. He could have given you the number. How long were you up with Hoot's sister?"

He must have had a bad day. He was really upset. Though, I hadn't helped at all by making him worry. I walked over to him and guided him in the general direction of the couch, "Gordon. Calm down, I didn't call because Reese said you were in meetings with your bosses. I didn't want them to think I was your needy trouble-making wife. That's why I went to see Annette. I don't want them to think I can't handle little problems."

His blue eyes darkened.

It wasn't like I was lying. I wasn't. He was always good at reading me, and reading between the lines.

"You think you're needy? Don't you."

Well when he put it like that…I could be a tad high maintenance at times. I'll admit that much. I kinda shrugged and wiped my palms on my shirt, "Sometimes. I think I can be difficult, yeah."

I wouldn't meet his eyes.

That was always a bad sign.

"Did Hoot's sister say that to you? She's crazy you know?"

My eyes were fixated on my nails. I was going to have to do something with them. Either cut them or get a manicure. Maybe a French Manicure would be nice. I liked the looks of them. While I examined my nails I spoke in a lower tone then normal. "No, she didn't say anything. I just have been thinking about what my shrink told me and…you know…want to try and work through things before I go crying to you."

My nails were all uneven. How did I let them go so long looking so bad?

Gordon's hand clasped over mine, fully encompassing my poor little hand.

So I looked up into his gaze.

Boy he was not a happy man.

"Angela, you know I love you. Right?"

"Yeah," was my eloquent answer.

"And I love you no matter what crises you go through on any given day of the week. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

His grip tightened, it wasn't painful or anything. Playful at the most, "Spending a night in jail is something that I need to be let in the loop on first, not Hoot's loopy sister. As thrilled as I am that you have made a friend and feel the need to share things with your new friend. I want to be the well informed one. I don't want to be one of those Army Husbands who has no idea what is going on with his wife."

Oh, he was jealous, that was so cute. I had rarely ever seen him jealous. Or maybe he was just feeling left out. Who knew. I was no shrink.

I gave him a small push towards the couch.

He didn't budge.

So I gave in. I was never one to argue, forget fighting. I had gotten even of that in my younger years. So I gave in, "All right. I will keep you well informed. Ok?"

Oh no, to my surprise he told me, "No."

"No?"

Again, he told me, "No," and shook his head for added effect. Then he told me, "I want to renew our marriage. The vows. Do another thing at the courthouse…whatever. I want to get remarried."

Where did that come from?

I watched him sit down, not on the couch, but he sat down on the coffee table and put his hands on his knees, looked up in my face and added, "I've been thinking about it for a while and want to do it. Ok?"

Ok? I just stared for a second, "Ok. Is this for work or something Reese wants us to do?"

He shook his head and there was no mistaking him. I walked over to the couch and sat down on the edge, reached over and grabbed one of his hands. He was just as needy as I was, just in far different ways. Ways he would never admit to even on his deathbed.

"No. I've been thinking about it for a while now."

I waited. He would tell me, I just had to wait.

He looked at me.

He'd obviously been thinking about it a while.

"When we first got married it was out of necessity. Now…you're rich we both have careers and I want to make a life together, a real life. Like a _real_ married couple. Once we go up and testify, I want to do it when we get back. Before Selection."

I reached over and touched his face. I kissed his cheek. How was I supposed to react? I knew he loved me. There was never any question about that. He had it planned and had obviously talked to Reese.

Stunned, all I could get out was, "So we'd be a real married couple. The kind that has sex?"

He nodded, "That's what I want. I mean…I love you. I love every last thing about you and I want to take this to the next level. I want this to be a permanent real marriage, I don't want the illusion anymore."


	22. Chapter 22

21.

It was late and I was hungry.

Sleepily I rolled onto my back and tried to determine whether or not I had the energy to get out of bed and walk all the way into the kitchen to get some food.

I was pretty hungry.

I looked over at Gordon who lay on his stomach, sound asleep, snoring ever so slightly.

He looked adorable.

I thought a moment about waking him up and asking him to fix me a snack, then I thought better of it and got up myself. He needed his sleep. He had a bad day and tomorrow probably wouldn't be too much better.

As quietly as I could I rolled off the mattress and onto the floor.

I looked over at him,

Nothing.

He was still asleep.

Damn I was good. I got to my bare feet and walked through the dark bedroom. The cool morning air on my bare thighs. It was cold. I considered getting back under the warm blanket and curling up against him.

I'd do that later.

I strolled on into the living area and into the kitchen. I was pretty hungry. I hadn't eaten much earlier. I opened the fridge and my toes curled from the cold arm floating down.

What did I want for breakfast?

I nosed around through the drawers and shelves finding some cabbage and pastrami. I'd make a Rueben!

Just elated with myself I began to grab supplies.

It was when I had the thousand island sauce did someone try to open the front door. I dropped the plastic container, scurried to the fridge, and peeked around to where I could see the doorknob move.

Someone was trying to get in!

All sense left my mind and I ran from the kitchen and into the bedroom. I shook Gordon awake, "Gordon, someone is trying to get in! They're trying to open the door."

It didn't take long for him to wake up.

He shook his head, rolled onto his back, and then his side as he pulled something out from under the mattress. It was a gun. I didn't realize he had one hidden underneath the mattress. How long had it been there?

Gordon walked swiftly from the bedroom.

I stayed put.

I did peek out around the corner of the door to see what was going on. But there was no way I was going out of the bedroom. Nope. I was no hero.

Gordon walked to the fridge.

Which would be a good spot to hide behind and have a good sight of the apartment. He held the small handgun down and watched the locks turn one by one.

The door opened and a guy walked in.

It would have helped if someone had turned a light on. Then I would have been able to see the guy. Who kicked the door closed with his foot.

I watched Gordon shove the gun into the back of his pants and turn the kitchen light on.

It was Lopez.

Who jumped and swore, "Shit! G you scared me!"

Gordon rubbed his face, "Morning." He then pointed to the bedroom, "You want the bed?"

Jeez, how long did Selection last? Lopez had been gone more then a month it seemed. A lot longer then boot camp. He looked tired but happy at the same time. He shook his head, "No man. The couch will be just fine for me."

With a wave, the two men headed to their respective beds.

Lopez simply walked to the couch and collapsed on it.

Gordon turned out the kitchen light and headed toward the bedroom. I quickly stepped aside and watched as he closed the door behind him and took the gun from his pants. "It's just Lopez."

**Later that morning…**

I woke up to voices. Lots of voices. Male voices. I lifted my head from the pillow and listened…there was a plurality of male voices.

Gordon wasn't in bed.

Nor was he in the bathroom.

I looked over at the clock on the floor and saw red numbers glow in the early morning light. 5:06.

The voices were loud and rowdy and the bedroom door was open, which bothered me. Anyone could just walk in and I was in nothing more then a t-shirt!

I got out of bed and ran to the hamper, I pulled out a pair of jeans and shimmied in them. I had worn them the other day. They were my skinny jeans and made me look good.

I loved them. Call me vain or whatever.

For a second I considered putting a bra on. But I had to find Gordon. There were more pressing matters. I could hear a gaggle of men. There were so many I could not pick out one voice.

So I crossed the room and peeked out.

I almost dropped dead.

The living area and kitchen were full of Rangers. There were Rangers standing. There were Rangers sitting on furniture. There were a few doing push-ups in some sort of a competition that another Ranger was timing.

I spotted Gordon in the kitchen. He was apparently helping Sanderson make breakfast, which was laughable, Gordon couldn't toast bread.

I made my way through the herd of men. Who by the looks of them had just gotten back from their morning PT, Gordon included.

Careful not to bump them, touch them, and keep my eyes downward, I made my way to the kitchen and then ran to Gordon.

He gave me a grin that made my heart melt, "Mornin sweetie. Did we wake you up?"

Oh…yeah, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I shook my head and inched right up against his backside as a Ranger I didn't know came in the kitchen, took a beer from the fridge, and asked Sanderson what was on the menu.

Being that close to Gordon made me realize a couple of things.

He needed a shower. He was all sweaty from his run.

He had a really firm butt. Why was it I had never noticed that before? I had seen him without clothes on more then one occasion, I just had never taken the time to grope him. Annette was definitely having a bad influence on me.

So I rested my cheek against his back and wrapped my arms around his waist. My fingers looped in the belt loops. Before I could ask him why there was a fiesta in the apartment, another Ranger I didn't know peeked in the kitchen. "G? Since the wife is up…morning Mrs. G…could I go hop in the shower now?"

I felt Gordon nod, "Yeah. There are extra towels under the sink. Watch out for the mousetrap."

Undisturbed, the Ranger winked at me and headed off to the bedroom.

For a moment I wondered how Gordon had been able to keep the herd of Rangers out of the bedroom while I slept, and then I decided I didn't want to know.

I walked with Gordon as he headed over to Sanderson, my arms and hands remained where they were. "Why are all these men here?"

Sanderson appeared to be making eggs and bacon, there was a huge pot of both on the stove and more eggs in a bowl.

"We're having a big breakfast with Lopez to welcome him back. Tonight we're having a bonfire too. He's around here somewhere…he has the coffee pot."


	23. Chapter 23

22.

The Rangers managed to eat all the food and they were gone, off to go shower and get ready for work, or wherever they went during the day.

Gordon included.

Somehow there were no plates.

This was a mystery to me.

Whether Sanderson was a Super Dishwasher, or they took the plates with them, or they ate off napkins.

I had no earthly clue.

I strolled into the bedroom and then the bathroom, still in my t-shirt and skinny jeans, and in to the bathroom. "Gordon?"

He was in the shower.

A hot shower.

There was enough steam in the bathroom to thaw Russia. I leant against the wall and watched the shape silhouetted against the curtain.

"I didn't do it. There were many men out there…any of them could have done it."

Right.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and then decided to ask a different question, "Are you trying to use all the hot water in the building?"

The curtain jerked aside.

There was shampoo in his hair. Why he bothered was a mystery to me. His hair was less then an inch long, maybe half an inch, and that was being generous.

A good portion of nicely shaped thigh came into sight and I tried very hard not to stare. Really I did. And it wasn't going so well.

He pointed at me, "Yes I am. Just try and stop me." He then laughed and disappeared behind the curtains.

Ok, no more Ace Ventura Movies for him.

Though…he had made an interesting comment. I probably could stop him. But that would mean I'd have to hop in the shower with him. Which actually didn't sound like a half bad idea.

I pursed my lips in deep thought.

He did have about an hour until he had to go and _be all that he could be_. So really what was the harm?

Before I lost my nerve, wherever it was coming from, I stood up and snuck in the shower with him.

There he stood in all his glory. Almost as naked as the day he was born, somehow I doubted he had been born with a Ranger tattoo on his arm. Other then that it was like the day he had been born.

He looked over his shoulder at me obviously surprised, he pinched his wrist.

Obviously in a state of denial.

All he could come up with was something along the lines of, "You didn't drink any of that coffee, did you? They put Rum in that."

I rolled my eyes and inched up to him, "I'm not drunk."

One of his golden eyebrows rose, "Then I have to be dreaming…cause I know I'm not drunk."

I inched up against him and placed my palms on his back, which was just slightly slippery with soap. I placed soft little kisses on the warm skin of his back.

Then he quickly told me, "Look, Angela…I'm pretty good with the self control, my self control when I'm fully clothed and…it's not morning and I'm not in a warm shower, and your not this close. So…um…what I am, you know, trying to say here is that…you're being um…just a little…ok really hard…no, you're making this challenging for me to keep myself under control. Very challenging."

I understood what he was saying. I wasn't eight.

I placed another soft kiss on his back , which tasted slightly of _Irish Springs_.

"I know."

"You know?"

"Umhmm…do you want me to get out of the shower?"

My pants were already getting wet and my shirt was beginning to cling. Fortunately he was doing a good job of blocking the shower water from completely drenching me.

"Is that a trick question," he asked.

Softly I kissed his back again and lifted my hands from his skin. Almost immediately he answered my question, "No."

No he didn't want me to go. I was on cloud nine. Yet, I didn't jump for joy. I probably would have fallen and broken my hip. Instead I took notice of the angle his head was at looking back and over his shoulder at me. It had to be uncomfortable.

So I very carefully walked around him, getting in front of the shower spray, so I was getting the most of it. Thank God the jeans were old. They would definitely have run in the warm water.

All thoughts of my jeans aside, I reached up and cupped his smooth face. I ran my thumbs over his lips and told him, "I love you."

With a look of complete amazement he informed me, "I'm…I'm naked."

I had observed that from behind him.

With a nod I acknowledged his confession, "I know."

Apparently, _I know_, was a guy speak code or the all clear, who knew. His strong arms wrapped around the wet t-shirt that clung to me and he kissed me. It was a hesitant kiss, at first. As if he still thought he was in some sort of dream. That was until I wrapped my legs around him.

Sure the jeans were wet. Yet, he didn't seem to care. His hands were on my butt boosting me up, so my legs were wrapped around his waist, just above his hips.

My jeans must have been rubbing against a sensitive place. I didn't ask, I was distracted. I just adjusted my legs and held onto his face.

It wasn't long before my hair became plastered to his face and mine from the shower. He didn't care. It was annoying me. I stopped kissing him and he made a noise, he gave me a look as if I had just run his grandmother over.

I hooked an arm around his neck and pushed my hair back. "Hold on, my hair is in the way."

He gave me another look, then turned and I was pinned against the shower wall. I was out of the water.

He began to ask if that was any better, I just pulled him to me and kissed him by the arm around his neck. Not that he was complaining, far from it. My toes were in the warm water though.

Again, not for the first time, his fingers began to tug at my shirt. They began to inch their way up, along the skin of my stomach, over a thin scar.

He was being coy.

Trying to be subtle or whatever, in the attempts to get a little further. It was something I had learned when I read the last issue of Cosmo. With my newfound courage, where it was coming from was a mystery to me. I reached down and pulled the clingy t-shirt over my head and dropped it on the shower floor.

He just stared for a moment.

It wasn't like he had never seen me without a shirt on. He had just never seen me without a shirt on in such a situation. He wasn't helping bandage me up or rubbing some magical scar reducing cream on my skin, which I might add never worked.

No, he took a breath that was close to a gasp.

He looked to me to say something. It never came out. I wrapped my arms back around his shoulders and pulled him close, he kissed me instead. He kissed me and apparently stepped on my t-shirt, slipping, falling, and the next thing I knew I was on the shower floor with him beneath me. Which wasn't so bad.

I looked around.

Then down at him.

Afraid for a minute that we had gone through the floor. We didn't. I looked into his blue eyes, "Are you all right?"

He probably could have bounced off the Statue of Liberty and he would have been fine. Instead of letting me see his back, which was where he had landed less the gratefully, he grabbed my face and began to kiss me again.

I laughed.

I couldn't help myself. With my back to the water I leant down and made myself comfortable. Spreading out atop him. My jeans might as well head for the dryer when the shower was over. I straddled one of his thighs and began to grope his defined chest.

A noise came from him and he stopped kissing me. He looked around and informed me, "Ok, you have to get on the bottom."

I had to what?

"I didn't do anything," I protested as he began to move me. My hip hit the tub and then I was on my back. Flat on my back. Oh jeez, "Gordon…maybe the shower is too small?"

He hovered above me and then he began to kiss my neck, which felt really good. It was then being on my back didn't seem so bad. His hands roamed over my waist, ribs, and then higher. All thought left my mind. My own hands wound up around his chest, on his back. For the first time in forever. Or the few months that we had been experimenting with the dating thing, and the intimacy, I closed my eyes.

I closed my eyes and tried to have some sort of coherent thought other then the naughty things crossing my mind. Then he began to kiss the scars that lead down to my breasts.

I gasped and bit my lip, "Gordon…"

His lips traveled up, his tongue ran over my lips.

In that specific moment of time I knew I wanted more. I wanted the whole intimacy thing. I wanted the hanky-panky. The Copulation. The Procreation. The Naughty Bad Fun. Whatever you wanted to call it.

I understood why Gordon wanted to re-marry me.

Finally, I was ready for the next part of our whole relationship.

I kissed him and pulled him even closer. I hooked my denim-clad leg around his thigh and tried to think of something to tell him. It was however at that moment in time someone came in the bathroom.

I vaguely heard something and Gordon lifted his head.

A Ranger who I didn't know pulled the curtain aside, demanding to know something about hot water. I don't know the specifics. I was too busy screaming and trying to cover myself.

Then he started to scream.

It wasn't pretty.


	24. Chapter 24

24.

Obviously, they were taught that knocking on doors was forbidden at Ranger School. This was the only logical conclusion that I could reach to explain their disdain for the action.

I was going to have to hold a seminar, "Knocking on doors, here's how in three simple steps."

For what was left of the morning I fumed over whomever that Ranger was. He had ruined a perfectly good morning. Bastard. I was so giving him instructions on how to knock next time I saw him skinny ass.

For the rest of the morning I stomped through the apartment as I worked. Not caring who was downstairs, if there was even someone downstairs. The phone attached to my ear.

"Holly. No. N. O. No means no. What is so hard to understand about that word? Do you want to hear it in Spanish or German?"

Whenever I was in a foul mood I turned into a bitch. Holly knew this. She wisely did not counter with her own bitchiness. She was well aware that there were other gallery owners that would gladly accept my work. I didn't need her, I just had no desire to put out my own stuff. That was her job.

She sighed on the other end of the phone, "Angela, you need to get off that little base and come into the gallery. I have people who want to meet with you about commissions."

I kicked a basket of undyed silk to where I wanted it, "Give me their number and I'll talk to them and arrange a meeting."

"Angela!"

I yelled right back, "I am not allowed to leave! And I'm not going to without good reason! I can get them on base easier then I can leave, got it?"

Yes, I was being mouthy.

What was she going to do, fire me?

I gave the basket one last good kick and fell onto my stool. The boys had brought more of my supplies so I could work. They brought my easel. Canvas. My brushes and my oil paints.

Very calmly, refraining from yelling right back, which was what she wanted to do, I could hear it through her gritted teeth. She so politely requested, "Fine! Can I get on the base today to speak with you?"

Right after I saw the shrink, or before.

Doctor lady was coming for a session. I had missed two and she was now coming to me. She was apparently concerned about me.

I was about to tell Holly where she could go.

But the front door just opened! It opened! I was going to have to lock the damned thing!

Annette came in with a huge smile upon her face, as if she had just heard the juiciest bit of gossip on the entire base. Her brown eyes darted to my stomach slightly and I knew whom it was about.

She closed the door and leant against it.

That obscene smile still on her face. A different wig on her head, a black wig. Think black hair hung past her shoulder blades.

She looked ready to explode with the juicy details.

So I told Holly, "Call me ten minutes before you arrive so I can call down to the guards and give you directions." At that I turned the phone off and looked to Annette, "Do you know how to knock? Does anyone in this damn building know how to knock?"

The smile just grew.

Dear God she was about to explode with the details about my morning shower. I tossed the phone into the basket of silk and asked, "Is there something on your mind?"

She skipped, SKIPPED, to the couch and plopped down oh so gracefully. "Rumor has it from a unidentified source that happens to be wife of a Ranger who knows the roommate of the man who was in here whose girlfriend is friends with a Ranger Captain who heard it from a Ranger we both know that Gordon was fooling around in the shower this morning with his wife."

I stared in disbelief, "That information went through seven people, Annette."

Her eyes glittered, "Yet you're not denying it!"

Oh Jesus.

"Yeah, we were in the shower."  
She leant forward as if I were about to give her winning lottery numbers.

I rubbed my face.

Then she decided to share, "Aren't showers fun?"

Good thing the phone was in the basket. I would have thrown it at her. Yes they were fun. But I had to be honest with her, "We didn't do what you think we did."

There was a moment of silence.

Followed by, "Huh?"

Thank God alone the phone rang. I snatched it from the basket before I had to explain myself. Quickly I answered it, "Yes?"

It was Reese.

"Angela? Are you busy?"

I swung my legs and smiled at Annette, whose eyes were trying to see through my shirt. "Nope, what do you need?"

I could hear him messing around with papers. "I just got a call from District Attorney Birdsong, she got the DNA results back, you are the mother of the child, no surprise there. I told her both you and Gordon were going to testify and the Army was willing to allow him a few days off to do so. I don't think she's going to be too difficult, if she pisses us off the Army can make the two of you vanish, and she'll have to work even harder to prove her case."

I loved the Army. It was a swell organization.

"Then that's good?"

"It's ok. You two will be testifying on what the man did to the both of you. But, since you're on the list of witnesses for the prosecution, the defense will know about you and may try to get into contact with you both."

They already had.

Did Reese need to know that?

Well since he was my lawyer I was pretty sure "full disclosure" was part of the deal. I lifted my feet up and admired my toes, "They already have."

His voice rose to an impressive pitch. A pitch I was not accustomed to. Whenever Gordon began to yell it was more of a growl, a low tone. The tone that came from Reese could have shattered glass.

Annette even cocked her head at the sound.

Good Lord. I was going to have to send her away. Give her a job of some sort. Like I did whenever I wanted Gordon out of my hair for any amount of time. Send him out on a scavenger hunt for some obscure thing.

"Why don't you come get the card and you can then call and give him hell? Does that sound good?"

"I'll be right there," was his response.

I lowered the phone and turned it off. Between him, Annette, Holly, and my Shrink, this was going to be one killer day.


	25. Chapter 25

24.

Annette was dense.

She was not oblivious or ignorant, she may have been ignoring me, but I thought she was just dense, like her brother. She followed me around the apartment while I went from task to task.

While packed up some boxes of pottery.

While I assembled my loom and spinning wheel.

She even watched me mix up my paints! All while she was silent and watched me with fascination. As if she were in Sea World and I was Shamu.

It was absurd.

She was there when Reese arrived and got the information on the lawyer.

She was there about an hour later when Holly stormed through. Careful not to touch anything, afraid her designer suit would be permanently damaged if it touched anything in the apartment I suppose. She dropped off a manila folder and a box full of packing supplies and gallery business cards.

During the whole time I was trying to plot a way to shoo Annette off without hurting her feelings. How did one do such a thing? I would have to send her on a scavenger hunt of some sort.

I had just closed and locked the door behind Holly, I didn't need any more people in the apartment. The lock had just slid into place, I had just checked my watch, and the phone rang.

More then just a little annoyed I groaned and collapsed against the door. When had I become so popular?

I thought about answering it and shouldn't have. Annette answered it for me. I turned my head and stared at her. She was amazing. No shame at all. It must have been a southern thing, Hoot was the same way.

She was just chatting away on the phone, taking a couple notes on a piece of paper by the phone.

It definitely had to be a southern thing.

When she turned the phone off she looked to me, calm as anything she told me, "We gotta go. Gordon is at the base hospital."

**The Base Hospital…**

Annette drove me.

She did not give me a choice and she didn't know why he was there. It was apparently a big mystery. But she had told me his Captain didn't sound too concerned. Her exact wordage, "_Apparently, he ain't dead, he just got his lil ass in trouble_."

Gordon in trouble.

Gordon in trouble was better then Gordon killed in a training accident. I remembered the night I learned he used live ammunition in his training and him telling me, _Don't worry, it's perfectly safe_. Don't worry. Oh yeah right.

We arrived at the hospital and she parked the jeep at an angle and I didn't care.

I hopped out and walked into the hospital as quickly as I could. I walked into the electric doors and immediately to the receptionist. An old woman who had obviously seen better days and they were a _long_ time ago. She looked up at me as if I were the scourge of the Earth for dare interrupting her from her paperwork.

"What," was the greeting I got.

I hunched over the high desk, "My husband came in here, and I was called to come pick him up. I don't know what room he's in."

The woman snorted.

She looked at some paperwork by her elbow, "What's his name?"

"Sergeant Gary I. Gordon."

The woman looked up at me and her eyes narrowed. I had obviously just ruined her entire week. She thrust her finger toward the hall, "He's in observation. Room three."

She didn't have to look. She didn't have to call anyone. Gordon must have done something naughty.

It was then Annette came bouncing in. She gave the woman a beaming smile, "Hi Ruth. Have you given up your quitting smoking yet?"

Ruth narrowed her eyes.

That was an obvious no, maybe even a _hell no_.

I looked to Annette, "I'll be right back. I'm going to go get Gordon."

At that I was off.

I strolled down the hall, following the signs to observation. I could not help but notice there were telltale signs of a fight. Blood splatter on the wall. A few dents in the drywall. Broken glass on the floor.

Someone had gotten the hell beaten out of them.

I found Observation and pushed open the swinging door. To my great relief the doors were numbered.

To my horror there was a guard posted outside room three. I dug out my military id and told him, "I'm here to pick up my husband."

He eyed it.

Then he eyed me.

Finally he held the card out to me. I held my hand out, palm up, and let him drop it in my hand, then I shoved it in my jeans. The guard eyed me as he opened the door and I walked in.

I didn't waste any time needless to say.

The door closed behind me and I saw Gordon, seated upon the stretcher, not a happy man, with his wrist handcuffed to the bed.

What did he do?

He looked at me with bruised and cut knuckles. All I could think to say came out, "You redecorated the hospital for what reason?"

With a groan he looked heavenwards.

I made my way to the stretcher and climbed up next to him. Stretchers were always so hard. They were horrible to sleep on. I tried to make myself comfortable and it didn't work.

I picked up his hand and examined his knuckle. There were more then just one cut. I entwined our fingers and kissed the back of his hand.

Finally he looked at me.

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, "I lost my temper."

I had seen that in the hall.

"Whom did you loose it against, may I ask?"

He began to tug on the handcuff. It made a clinging noise against the metal bar of the stretcher. "Yoran. The Ranger who was in our apartment this morning."

This got my attention.

Especially since he had not been mad earlier, or even mad at the man when it occurred.

I looked Gordon over. I really looked him over. Unless he was really bruised beneath the camos, I was willing to bet he was the winner of that particular fight.

"Why?"

Gordon shook his head.

Not in response to my question. No, he shook his head, ashamed, pissed off, he was still wound up. His answer was, "I lost control. He shoved me and I just…snapped."

He was angry with himself. I didn't have to be a mind reader to know. He prided himself on self-control. He prided himself on being different in every possible way from his father and it was hard. I could see it in his eyes. He was a dead match to one of the men he hated more then anything in the world. He had his father's beautiful blue eyes, golden hair, stunning bone structure, and his father's quick temper.

He just kept it under control far better then his father had ever even considered.


	26. Chapter 26

25.

Captain Ekoline, the man who was Gordon's boss, commanding officer, or whatever, stood in the door and motioned to me. "Mrs. Gordon could I have a word with you while Gordon is unrestrained."

I could tell by his tone it wasn't a request.

Gordon gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

Then out I went to have a word _with_ the Army man. Who closed the door to the room so there was privacy. Whatever word he wanted to have with me he wanted without Gordon overhearing it.

Perfect.

I should have just stayed in bed for the rest of the day. But now wasn't the time for me to be a coward. I made sure I was out of reach of the man, I crossed my arms and asked, "What's wrong sir?"

I made sure my body language screamed don't F-ing touch me. I didn't want to look afraid. I wanted to look serious, in control. I wanted to look strong. I just hoped I could pull it off.

He didn't get in my personal space.

Woohoo! Watching _married with children_ paid off.

"Mrs. Gordon, I'm sure you're aware that the other person in the fight was another Ranger by the name of Yoran?"

I had just been informed of that so I nodded, "Yes sir."

The captain shifted his weight.

His arms were behind his back.

He was beating around the bush.

"Earlier today he got into the apartment you and Gordon are in?"

Again, I answered with, "Yes sir."

He stood straight and stopped shifting. "Well ma'am there is no easy way to put this, but the fight your husband was involved in stemmed from something Yoran witnessed."

I was stupefied.

Gordon's naked ass had caused the fight? I was drawing a blank. The Captain continued, "The fight apparently began when your husband was accused by Yoran of spousal abuse. It began in the shooting house and was broken up. Both men were brought here and it was reignited."

I closed my eyes.

It was all I could do. I had gotten Gordon in trouble without doing a thing. I should have never gotten out of bed. I had been right. It was turning into a very bad day.

"Now, Mrs. Gordon, I know that Gordon is not guilty of this accusation. If there hadn't been this incident the issue would have simply blown over."

At that I opened my eyes.

Fear seized my gut and I felt sick, "Gordon's not going to get demoted?"

Immediately the Captain held his hands up and shook his head, "No! No, not at all. Yoran was the instigator of the fight in both cases, Sergeant Gordon just lost his temper and the matter got out of hand. No, the only thing is the MP's will be called in to investigate what happened and they'll question you."

It seemed everyone wanted to talk to me.

I began to rub my face.

The guilt was just piling up.

"Take my sergeant home and make sure he's calmed down and in uniform. I expect him to make his appointment and he still has work at the shooting house."

Got it. I could do that. Not a problem.

Captain Ekoline opened the door to room three and motioned for Gordon, "Sergeant, I'm releasing you into the care of your wife for the moment. I expect you back within an hour. Any questions?"

"No sir."

"Good," his captain then looked to me, "Enjoy the rest of your day Mrs. Gordon."

Oh sure, I could tell my day was just going to get better.


	27. Chapter 27

26.

For the ride home Gordon was silent.

Not a word was uttered. He didn't sigh or so much as cough.

When we arrived back at the building Annette made some excuse about not feeling well. Maybe she was really sick. I didn't know. I didn't ask. She simply ran off before we even made it in the building. I had been trying to get rid of her all day. Once she was gone I felt guilty. I don't know where all this guilt was coming from but it was getting real annoying.

We went upstairs and none other then my shrink stood waiting oh so patiently at the door. Looking like the spitting image of professionalism in her blue skirt suit and leather briefcase. At the sight of us she gave me a warm smile, "Angela, just in time, I was about to call you."

Of course she was.

I dug the keys for the apartment out of my jeans and unlocked two of the three locks on the door. It was Gordon who made the apologies, "I'm very sorry for keeping her from you ma'am. There was a problem at work and I needed a ride home."

I opened the door and welcomed her in, letting her in first. Which allowed me to whisper to Gordon, "Do you need a ride back?"

He shook his head.

Then he stepped inside, knowing that I was never a fan of being the first one in a room. Old habits died really hard. His fingertips brushed over my arm and lingered on my stomach as he passed, "Nope, I can walk, it's not far."

Of course he would walk. I should have known.

At that he walked right into the bedroom and closed the door. Needing a shower and a change before he went back to work.

My shrink, Dr. Tamlin, a shrink specializing in abused children who grew up into damaged adults, calmly walked around the small apartment taking everything into account.

Her briefcase lay on the couch.

I had been her patient for a year. There was that comfort level, which I was more then grateful for.

Since Gordon was getting in the shower I locked all the doors. Just incase someone tried to break in.

"This is very nice. Very cozy, I see you put up some pictures and have your work hanging around."

I looked around at her observations. It was true, I had put pictures of Gordon and I up around the apartment. There were pieces of drying dyed silk tacked to the ceiling and hung down in brightly colored ribbons. Canvases lay flat on the kitchen counters, tables, and on top of the TV. Space was limited and I had to make due till a house opened up.

"Yeah…you should see the bedroom. I had to have the boys make a trip so I could get our two hampers. Gunpowder was getting on my clothes and you know what a mess that makes."

She smiled and came to a stop. Her interest came to rest on my stack of work Holly brought over for me, "You're behind?"

I shrugged and fell down **_plop_** on the recliner chair. At the same moment I heard the shower turn on in the bedroom. "I've been busy," I told her, pointing to the stack of paperwork that Reese brought over for my records.

Court papers.

The subpoena for Gordon and I, the airline tickets, the copy of the DNA test results, and a dozen business cards. His, the DA's, Army Services, and a dozen others I hadn't bothered to even pay attention to that included police departments, military police, post security, and a few victims hotlines.

My shrink went through every last piece of paper and I kicked off my flip-flops, admiring my diamond toe rings. I loved them. They were the result of a shopping spree in New York. I had been bad that weekend. If Gordon only knew how much money I had spent. I wiggled my toes and reveled in the small amount of pleasure it gave me.

"You gave a DNA sample? For the girl?"

My eyes never left the glittery diamonds, "Yep. They got a subpoena for it too."

This got her attention. The petite doctor lady of some manner of Asian descent, I was betting Korean, if I had to lay money on it. "You didn't give a DNA sample willingly?"

I thought about saying hell no. Just so she would get the idea I was not over the moon with enthusiasm about the whole thing, but, she was pretty good about reading my body language.

Dr. Tamlin came on over and took a seat on the couch. She set her briefcase on the floor and crossed her legs. My eyes never left my diamonds. I needed something to concentrate on. I knew what she going to ask. I wasn't anywhere as dense as Annette.

"That sample will be used in the court case, the one you and Gordon will testify in?"

"Ummhmm."

"It'll be for the prosecution? In the attempt to put the man in jail? And you did not want to give the sample?"

She was right on top of it, "It's my right." Or so I thought from my limited knowledge of the judicial system , which was based upon episodes of Law and Order.

"Angela."

I tore my gaze away from my toes and looked into her brown eyes. She didn't ask the question I knew was there. Especially in the tone that she had called my name with.

I crossed my arms and wished the coffee table were closer, so I could put my legs on it. Instead I crossed them and hopped my body language spoke how I really felt about the issue at him. "I would have much preferred not giving the mouth swab. Ok? I don't need a DNA test to tell me I gave birth to that child. And you know what else, I'm not over the moon with excitement that I get to testify in court either."

I began to bounce my foot after my little outburst, suddenly not in the best of moods.

"Why," she simply asked.

Why.

Oh there were many reasons. A few of which were truth. I continued to bounce my foot. "I'm not afraid of him anymore and I know he can't hurt me. It's just being reminded of what he did, he makes me sick. When I see the pictures of him I feel sick. He repulses me and I don't want to see him. I don't care what happens to him anymore. It's beyond me. I know what you're going to say…_it'll give me closure and I'll have justice_…but he's done his damage. I'm an adult now. I have a career and a husband. There is nothing that can fix me, nothing anyone can say that will help. Why bother? Why bring it up?"

"You don't want to see him in handcuffs?"

"I don't want to see him period."

"Why?"

That word was getting on my nerves. Why this, why that. Or maybe today just was not my day. I dug deep and told her, "Because I'm better then he is. I have a better life and I really don't want to see what I could have had if we had stayed. _And_…it'll be harder on Gordon then me. He has enough to deal with as it is. Plus…I don't want to deal with it. I'm tired of dealing with it."

"Has Gordon brought up the DNA test? Or anything about testifying?"

Nope.

Not a word.

I simply shook my head, as if on cue the shower water cut off. His shower was done apparently.

"Does he ever talk about your past?"

Nope.

It was one topic we never talked about at all.

Again I shook my head.

"Why?"

I was beginning to hate that word. I stopped bouncing my feet and sighed, "He is a control freak. Not possessively or weird or anything. But when he was young he was never in control of anything, we never knew what would happen. When we left it was just unspoken between us…we had left and would never have to worry about that place again. Since then Gordon has been in complete control of everything in his life. His career, where we lived, the TV, and for one year the taxes…but that was a disaster. He couldn't control what happened to us and that still pisses him off."

I guess I had told her something insightful in my ranting. She tilted her head and asked, "He blames himself for the both of you being abused?"

Again I nodded, as if on cue Gordon came out of the bedroom buttoning up his camos jacket. He nodded to my shrink, "Ma'am."

He hurried across the apartment, obviously late for something. But still came over to me and gave me a quick kiss.

"What time should I be ready for the fiesta?"

He gave me another kiss and continued with his buttoning, "I'll call…I'm not sure. Just make sure you pack closed shoes…sneakers. Heels don't count as being closed shoes."

Oh fine.

I rolled my eyes, "All right. Do I need to pick up anything?"

He shook his head, waved to Dr. Tamlin and quickly left. I knew it wasn't because she was here. He had been the driving force behind me seeing a shrink. He had been the one to take me to every last appointment. Though, apparently, he was in no need of one. Go figure.


	28. Chapter 28

27.

Dr. Tamlin watched Gordon leave and lock the door behind him, then she asked, "Is he seeing someone?"

I gave her a look, "Gordon would never cheat. It'd spread like wildfire around here and when I found out…well…lets just say there would be hell to pay."

She sighed and shook her head, "I mean professionally."

I was even more confused, "You mean like a prostitute?"

"No. I mean a psychiatrist."

Oh, nooooo, not Gordon.

I shook my head and quoted him, "_He doesn't need one_. Don't worry though, he spends a lot of time at the gym with Hoot. Both men have similar daddy issues, so it helps them."

I think I lost her at that. She cocked an eyebrow and put a finger to her lips, "Daddy issues?"

Yeah, daddy issues. I didn't have one of those so I never had that particular issue.

I nodded, "Yeah. Hoot's father took off and Hoot had to step up and be the male in charge and Gordon's father is just a bastard. Both men detest their father and had to grow up much too young. They'll lie through their teeth and say it wasn't that bad. You know…they'll never speak to a soul about what they went through. But deep deep deeeeeeeep down, it bothers them. They're true men."

My explanation seemed to fascinate her.

"You know this how?"

Well, with Gordon it was so much easier. Feeling more at ease I pulled my feet up beneath me and made myself comfortable. "I've known Gordon forever. So I got to watch him and his father, and heard Gordon spew his hatred for the man when he lived in our old town. He pretty much began to hate his old man with every fiber of his being from childhood. His father beat everyone in that house. When we left Gordon made a point to me. He told me he never wanted to be like his father. But he looks like his father. He's a spitting image. He tried contacts. He even had me dye his hair on occasion. I guess he just gave in…like me. There are some things you just can't change."

With her finger, she pointed towards the door he went out, "Has he ever had an outburst? Has he ever gotten violent?"

Yes, I think every man in the world had lost his temper on occasion. "Never with me," I told her, which I knew I would have to elaborate more on. I wasn't stupid. So before she could even ask I told her, "His work is very physical. When he is really mad or moody, it helps. It's why he did so well in boot camp. He excelled in every bit of it. The unarmed combat stuff, he's great at that and he can channel his anger. He doesn't even realize he's doing it. He internalizes stuff until he just explodes. At boot camp…he just exploded, it was great timing. His records on the courses are still unbeaten."

"But his work is with weapons. He is a sniper and that isn't very physical."

Well parts of it were. But that wasn't her question.

"He's a very patient man. He's very smart. Sniper stuff isn't just aiming and pulling a trigger. There is math and formulas involved depending on conditions. Plus I think it's soothing for him."

Both her eyebrows rose in alarm.

"Not the killing," I sighed, "When it's all done and over. I've watched him a few times when he cleans his weapons. It's very ceremonious. Every piece has to be taken off and cleaned extensively, or oiled. It has to be done a certain way and go back together perfectly. Not just the rifle, all his guns. He's the same way with his uniforms. The camos just go in the wash and get ironed. But his green uniforms and the dressy one. He washes those, he irons, he starches, he is meticulous about them."

Even though she wasn't writing I could tell she was filing stuff away. Analyzing certain things. What? I had no clue. But I could see it in her eyes. She shifted in her spot to get comfortable, "You mentioned that he would not take going back as well as you would. What did you mean?"

She had a memory like Mr. Sanderson.

I wiggled my toes , which rested, against my butt. The rings were digging and it wasn't very comfortable, so I moved around to fix it. "It's not just the rehashing everything and seeing that man again. Gordon's brother is the mayor of the town now and has been trying to get into touch with him, which Gordon has been…resisting to say the least."

She interrupted me, "Why?"

With all the time spent in school you would think she could have learned other words of the same meaning.

Happy with my feet folded up like Buddha, I shrugged, "Gordon's brother, this is the oldest one, was a fireman when Gordon was little and knew what was happening in his house and my house and didn't do anything. Gordon begged him a couple times but nothing ever came out of it. I guess he's worried about what Gordon will say on the stand. Plus, there are some philosophical differences of opinion."

She blinked, "Philosophical differences of opinion?"

All I could do was nod, "Greg is fat and he drinks, smokes, and beats his wife. Gordon doesn't like that. He thinks his brother is a disgusting slob. Greg thinks Gordon is a murderer and Gordon thinks Greg is an enabler. You know…just small differences of opinion." I held my two fingers about an inch apart to illustrate the small amount.

"What happened to Gordon's other brothers?"

Oh God, I had to think, he had three older brothers. As I spoke I counted them off my fingers, "There's Greg and John, John is in and out of jail all the time. Then Steve…I don't know where Steve is at the moment, but he's homeless. He has a drug problem."

The phone began to ring, I jumped but let it ring. There was an answering machine for a reason. For those times when one didn't want to answer the phone. Whoever created that device was a genius.

"Are you ever afraid that Gordon will become a abuser?"

I shook my head and then asked, "Wouldn't it already have happened?"

For a moment she was silent. Thoughtful I guess. She then answered me, "Most likely. Though there are no certainties in Psychology. Though if he has not exhibited any forms of abuse then I seriously doubt he ever will. Gordon is a very exceptional man for someone in his position."

Well I knew that.

I smiled and wiggled my toes, stretching them. It was in that moment whatever my shrink and I discovered wouldn't matter, because in that moment I realized I was truly happy.

I was happy with my life. I was content with the way the cards had fallen. I was happy and I was in love.


	29. Chapter 29

_Authors Note: Ok, I have now decided after twenty-odd chapters I want to have a few here and there with Gordon being the narrator. I didn't feel like making this thing into two parts, I'm lazy I know. __ Anywho, the Gordon chapters will be marked so, if not then they will be from Angela's point of view. So…any thoughts or comments, feel free to put them in the reviews and I'll consider them. Anywho, enough notes, now that I have thoroughly confused y'all._

Gordon

I couldn't bring myself to open the door. I just couldn't and it wasn't like me to be such a coward when I knew what awaited me. But I could not step through the door knowing the man that was behind it could hold the rest of my professional career in the Army in his very hands.

Not that pressure bothered me. It was the power that man had. I didn't like people having power over me. It bothered me. It was a control thing, I knew that, and it would always be in the back of my subconscious poking at me no matter what I did.

The man wasn't there because I had requested the interview.

I was being recruited.

There was a pride factor in being recruited by Special Forces Units. It wasn't like I was trying out and proving myself. No. They knew I was good, they had been watching me, and they wanted me.

I just had to sign on the dotted line for selection.

I continued to stare at the door.

Did I want it? Did I want to go through selection for a unit that was officially unofficial? I wanted a challenge. I needed something new at work. I had re-upped and was not sure if I wanted to be a Ranger for the next four years. Civilian life held absolutely no appeal.

This was all on me.

No one in my chalk, no one above me could do anything to help me make selection. Angela had made it obvious that whatever I wanted to do she would support. She'd move anywhere.

This was my choice.

I looked at my watch.

I was still a few minutes early.

There was no doubt that I wouldn't give up during selection. No doubt that I would quit, or any time I gave up during anything in my life or career. I just had to decide did I want it.

There were a number of things I wanted. I wanted an old Mustang. I wanted to get buried on Army paperwork and never have to set foot in a courthouse in Michigan. I wanted to party in a heart shaped hot tub with my wife, preferably topless.

I wanted more out of life…I might as well get more out of my job. I needed a challenge at work.

Before I could change my mind I opened the door to the room and saw a man seated at a table, a chair across from him. All my paperwork was compiled neatly in a folder in front of him.

He didn't seem surprised to see me early.

The man was also in jeans and a simple grey t-shirt. His hair was not cut regulation standard and he had a full beard. I had heard that the grooming standards in Special Forces were relaxed, but he just blew my mind.

He stood and shook my hand never giving me his name. Therefore I never asked his name.

Then I sat down and he folded his hands and set them on the table, "Well sergeant, you have a very impressive service record and are very handy with that rifle of yours."

What did someone say to that? I was good at shooting people.

"Thank you sir."

At the mention of _sir_ a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, he said nothing.

"According to this you are a model soldier. Four solid years in the Army, three as a Ranger. You re-enlisted and have another two solid years as a Ranger under your belt. The only thing I can't seem to find is your life prior to the Army."

God bless SEALs and their paperwork connections.

"How so sir?"

His eyes alone looked up at me over my paperwork, "Your life prior to the fake and real papers. Your life between the ages of fifteen and eighteen."

That, yeah, that would be a problem to prove.

"It's peculiar for someone to just drop off the face of the earth for four years. Not to mention a hard thing to do…near impossible. How do two uneducated runaways survive on the streets unaided?"

Now was not the time for me to be sarcastic, an ass, or difficult.

"Ask me a specific question and I will give you a specific answer."

The man smiled.

He then asked me, "Why don't you have a criminal record?"

That was pretty easy to answer.

"I never committed a felony. I used fake names and paid all the fines for the misdemeanors I committed, then we moved."

That answer pleased him and he moved on, "You have a GED."

"I worked nights."

Then he asked a question I didn't think he would. A question no one had ever asked me the question during my career. "Why did you join the Army?"

I thought about it while I looked at my records.

He added, "We'll get to those later, sergeant, don't worry."

Oh good, I could hardly wait.

I told him the truth, "I wanted something better then what I had."

"How long do you plan to stay in the Army?"

That was a no-brainer, "As long as you'll have me, sir." Yeah, that sounded original. I didn't really care if he believed me or not.

"Do you have any aspirations for OCS?"

"Not right now," I truthfully told him.

His hand fell on my paperwork, "Now, lets start here."

**About an hour later…**

Apparently I had met every qualification of theirs.

I had a rank of a sergeant.

I was over twenty-one.

Pass some written and physical tests.

I had never received a court martial and I had no record of disciplinary problems, I had been a good boy.

Once the meeting was over all I had was a piece of paper with a phone number. I would receive orders shortly.

_What the hell did I just get myself into_ was one of the many thoughts swimming around my head. I knew selection was held once a year. That was all I knew about it. Lopez was keeping his mouth shut, not even saying if he had or hadn't passed it. Bastard.

Sometime next year I would venture through it.


	30. Chapter 30

_Authors Note: Ok, I am in the mood tonight to delve into the mind of Gordon, so this chapter is also Gordon as narrator. It will be so marked. So enjoy and review!_

Gordon

We were running late. Or, I was running late. I had gotten stuck at the office for forty minutes with a Ranger, one who wanted to try out for a position as sniper. As best sniper on base I got the honors to talk with the young man, Randy Something-or-other was his name.

The young man definitely had the determination. There was an intense look in his eyes. He wanted to be a sniper. He was going to be a sniper. You could just tell by looking in his eyes and talking to him.

The man impressed me.

So it was a little late when I arrived back at Lopez's, not that the party was fancy, or even had a set time for attendance, it was a little informal. But I didn't want to keep our ride, "Sanderson", waiting.

Our ride had a four-wheel drive vehicle.

Our ride was seated on the couch in Lopez's apartment. Not that it bothered me or anything. I was glad that Angela was getting comfortable around my friends. It was a good thing.

But to see him lounging on the couch, TV on CNN, while he nosed through her basket of a million balls of yarn. To see her working on a painting while they talked about Greek Food, of all things, and how to spice a lamb roast. A conversation beyond me.

It hit me hard in the gut.

I would have given my right arm to be in his seat on the couch. When I walked in she gave me a smile, a smile that I only got, and the little urge to physically assault Sanderson subsided.

Brush poised over the canvas, "Are you ready to go?"

I was ready to go anywhere she wanted.

"Yeah…do you have your keys Sanderson?"

His hand shot up with keys in hand.

Perfect.

She then dropped her brush in a glass jar half full of turpentine and a couple other dirty brushes. She wiped her painted hands on the oversized men's shirt and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, getting paint on her cheek in the process.

She was perfect.

I noticed Sanderson watching as she began to unbutton the men's shirt. If she didn't have anything on under it she wouldn't have been stripping, but he still didn't need to be watching. It was a principle thing. So I smacked him in the back of the head.

He swore and she looked up in surprise.

The shirt was half open revealing a white shirt with long sleeves. The shirt was thin…or thin enough you could see the outline of her bra.

The pink lacy one to be exact. I loved that bra.

Much more observant then Hoot, Sanderson got up, "I'll go wait in the jeep?"

The man was quick on the uptake.

I watched him stroll out and then leant against the back of the couch.

"How'd your meeting go," she asked.

I was more curious how her afternoon with the shrink went. What had and hadn't been shared. The pile of court papers scattered across the dining room table was not lost on me. There was paint on the DNA Test results and I was willing to bet Sanderson had not been behind that burst of creativity.

Did I want to mention selection yet?

No I didn't…I wasn't sure how I felt about it. So I told her half the truth, "I met a Ranger who'll probably be one of the best snipers in the house by the end of the year."

The men's shirt was off.

I loved that shirt. I had dreams about her in that shirt and that shirt alone. How she could manage to exude sexiness in a XXX-L mans white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows was a mystery to me.

Both her eyebrows rose, "Yeah?"

Her interest was genuine.

"Yeah…sometime tomorrow I'm getting interviewed and you'll get interviewed too, they're just MP's. But if you want call Reese."

She gave me a reassuring smile and shoved her bare feet into a pair of brand new sneakers.

Where had they come from?

I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. She shopped and that's what women did. She made the money so she could buy what she wanted. She deserved that much.

"I'll be fine. Annette and I are going to the post office and then shopping at the mall. We'll go when they leave."

The mall?

The mall was off base.

"What's at the mall that isn't at the commissary?"

She shoved her other foot in the other sneaker. The diamond toe rings glittered. Why she couldn't wear diamonds on her fingers was beyond me. She had a million dollars on her toes. Only Angela could pull that off.

Concentrating on her laces she informed me, "A Kabana Jewelry Store and a Victoria's Secret."

She had my interest, "The fancy underwear store?"

She smiled while she continued her task at hand, "Yeah. Annette and I were doing laundry and apparently, I don't own sexy underwear. So we have to go shopping."

God bless that woman. She deserved a medal. Or at least a cash reward.  
Not that I didn't already like her underwear. But some black lace and stringy drawers weren't bad either. I quickly covered my ass. She didn't need to think I didn't already like the stuff she had, "I like your undies. They're swell."

She gave me a look.

Another thought came to mind, "I also liked your outfit this morning too."

Never again would I look at those jeans the same way again. She was getting jeans for her birthday. Maybe something red and lacey too.

"Dr. Tamlin gave me a prescription."

My mood sank.

Not anti-depressants! She couldn't be depressed, she just couldn't have been! While she oh so calmly fixed her shirt and jeans she added, "Don't give me that look. They're just birth control pills. Annette got it filled for me…I'll start taking them tomorrow."

Birth control pills.

For a few seconds I let that sink into my skull. I didn't know what to say or do, and I was pretty sure dancing was out of the question. Thank God she did the talking for me. "So whenever we're ready I'll be protected. I don't want another condom touching me. So you don't have to worry about birth control."

Now I was pretty good with puzzles and clues. Between the panty store and these new pills…she very well could have been ready to become a real couple.

I didn't know just how to react.

She was so calm and there was a fiesta going on inside me. All I could think of to tell her was, "I love you."

She laughed and pointed to the door, "Lets go. Sanderson is waiting."


	31. Chapter 31

30.

Compared to Hoot, Sanderson was a polar opposite.

He was quieter then Hoot, but, probably just as thoughtful. He was a better driver. Apparently, he did not believe he was on a racetrack. Or was not determined to see if he could throw his passengers around the entire car.

Physically the men were quite different too.

Even though Sanderson was a blue-eyed blonde, he didn't look anything like Gordon.

The two men had a friendship, a mutual business like friendship. I watched them from the backseat of Sanderson's Bronco. Gordon appeared to like him and it was mutual, but, both men were far better friends with Hoot then they were with one another.

They had a casual friendship with one another and Hoot was the cement.

Sanderson was new. He'd been with the Rangers a whole month. He'd obviously known Hoot far longer. But…there was something about him that you knew he'd be successful. He held himself to a high standard, like both Gordon and Hoot.

Unlike the two men, Sanderson came from money.

You could just tell Sanderson had a privileged life. His vocabulary and manners were exceptional. He probably had attended a really expensive school that had uniforms. Sanderson wore every uniform with ease. Though…he had issues with assimilation.

Not into the Army.

No, he was uncomfortable around some of us commoners.

He had no problem with sergeants and officers, it was the privates. Though he was working really hard, especially in casual situations. He must not have associated with the help very often in his childhood.

Or women.

Sanderson seemed to have issues with self-esteem and asking women out.

Both issues would be taken care of shortly if he continued to hang out with Hoot and Gordon. Gordon had no problem with self esteem and Hoot had no problem with women.

On the drive through roads on base and then onto dirt roads that led to training areas and beyond, I noticed several **No Trespassing** signs. Casually I pointed these out to Gordon.

Sanderson nervously looked to Gordon, turning onto a dirt road that led into the forest. He also had problems with nerves. Hoot would fix that too within a few weeks.

Gordon turned and with a smile upon his face held a finger to his lips.

I rolled my eyes and watched out the window, "We're not going to get blown up? It'd be a real bummer to hold this party on a test field for mines."

"Nope. It's next to the rifle range," Gordon teased.

Wherever Sanderson came from sarcasm was obviously not common. He looked over at Gordon with concern on his face, "What?"

**The Fiesta…**

We arrived at the party for Lopez, which was in the middle of a field, surrounded by forest. A huge bonfire in the center with enough people to invade France congregated around the huge flame.

Sanderson just parked in the grass and we hopped out. Or Gordon hopped out, I didn't realize we were parked in a swamp. I climbed out and hit the ground with a gushy _thunk_. I looked down and saw I was up to my calves in muck. So long pretty new sneakers…they'd be seeing the inside of the washing machine when I got back. My $300 dollar jeans too. Damn the outdoors!

Gordon tried his best not to laugh and only succeeded in snorting and grinning, then for the first time he addressed me as _baby_. Hoot was an influence on him.

"Baby, reach out and give me your hands."

He didn't even seem to notice. I kinda liked it so I didn't say anything. Instead I reached out to him, "Is the car going to sink?"

With strength I usually didn't see Gordon easily pulled me from the mud. Not so much as a grunt escaped from his lips. He simply pulled me from the mud and onto somewhat solid ground. The muck clung to my jeans and feet in globs.

I made a whining noise.

Gordon bent over and wiped the muck away, "Nah, it's mostly liquid. Plus the tires are pretty high."

Well I had to agree with that. Sanderson's Bronco stood at least two feet off the ground. Which probably contributed to my sinking in the muck so deep from my descent out of the vehicle.

Sanderson came around the mentioned Bronco and froze, "Is she ok?"

Gordon wiped the muck off as much as he could, flung it off his hand, and wiped his hand on his pants, "Yeah, just landed in the mud is all."

How a little bit of mud bothered me so much was embarrassing. Yet, it didn't seem to bother Gordon in the least. His arm wound around my waist and he led me towards the fire and people.

He and Sanderson simply walked, I maneuvered around puddles of mud, rocks, and various other dangers of nature.

We had to be in the middle of a swamp. That was the only thing I could come up with.

When I saw something on the ground I grabbed Gordon's belt, looped my fingers around the thick cord, and held on for dear life. It looked like a snake to me. I was no expert and had no desire to crawl around and investigate further. Bravery was not one of my finer qualities.

When we came to the horde of people we lost Sanderson, which wasn't too hard.

There were people _everywhere_.

There were men I recognized from around, their wives or girlfriends, and then some women I didn't know.

Gordon directed me through the crowd toward coolers. There were seven lined up side by side on the ground. Beside them were three grills all of which were full of food and tended by men whose sobriety was questionable at best.

As I walked I peeked over my shoulder at him, "Why are the groupies here?"

Gordon leant closer. His cheek brushed mine, "What?"

I pointed to the closest woman that was fawning over the closest Ranger.

I felt him laugh. I felt him brush up against me and I felt his lips against my ear, "Single Rangers get lonely."

Ah I suddenly understood, the Rangers were horny.

Gordon directed me closer towards the coolers.

His arms wrapped around my waist in the process.

"How did they get this far in on base?"

"The guards are lonely," Gordon told me, then pulled me to a stop at the coolers. He let go of me and simply began to lift lids until he found cans of Coke. His drink of choice. His one guilty pleasure other then "Married with children."

While he dug around I noticed Hoot and a couple other Rangers make their way toward us, Sanderson included. It was Hoot who addressed Gordon, "G! Quit feelin up your wife, we need'a favor."

Coke in hand, Gordon stood up, a happy man. He popped the can open and took a sip, then offered it to me. I gladly accepted it after he drank it. I wasn't about to take drinks from strange coolers.

"I'll stop feeling up my wife when I'm good and ready…and I am not going to shoot another beer can off your head. You owe me the four hundred, fair and square."

What on Earth had I missed out on?

I sipped my caffeinated beverage and stared in wonder. Hoot rolled his eyes heavenwards and Sanderson stepped forward, "What our deep fried friend is trying to say is…we need someone to be the judge…and someone who also is trained in CPR."

I was no expert. But, that didn't sound good, even to me.


	32. Chapter 32

31.

I watched the group of men stroll towards the fire and knew whatever they were going to do was not going to be very safe, or smart. Even though Gordon had assured me it was perfectly safe.

Yeah, right, I had heard that before.

I watched them come to a stop and make pointing gestures towards the field, the swamp, and knew it wasn't going to be good. However, I never got to share that with them. Some woman who I didn't know came over to me and told me, "Don't worry, they're very well trained."

Like I didn't know that?

I expected to see Annette, with a grin on her face, telling me that piece of information with her accent dropped. Nope. There was some scantily clad blonde woman, with a set of…boobs that would have made that blonde off Baywatch jealous. A beer in her hand and a goofy half drunk smile on her face.

I stared, "Excuse me?"

She gave me a huge smile.

Then she pointed her bottle towards the men, "You seeing any of them?"

She wasn't a wife, maybe a girlfriend.

I pointed to Gordon, "That's my husband."

Her voice reached a high pitch and she grabbed my arm. I almost died. I pulled it away from her. She was too tipsy to notice.

"Oh My God! You're married to Sergeant Hot-Body!"

Then it dawned on me.

Ranger Groupie.

I looked the half drunken groupie over. I had never seen one up close before. She didn't seem as skanky as what Annette had told me, though, Annette was a little biased after loosing a boyfriend to one. Without any ulterior motives I asked her, "Are you seeing anyone here?"

She giggled, "Hopefully by the end of tonight."

Well maybe I could help her out.

Or help her away from me, I had a sudden urge to assault her. Nothing violent or harmful, maybe just break her jaw. Nothing too outrageous. My eyes scanned the fiesta and fell upon Sanderson. Who was oh so innocently drinking and beer and joking around with Lopez and a couple other Rangers.

I pointed, "Do you see that man there?"

She looked and nodded, "The blonde, yeah."

"He's rich, single, and a Colonel!"

She looked like a child on Christmas morning, "Oh my God! Really!" I nodded assuringly, "Oh yes. But, he just got out of a very serious relationship. So he is very timid. You'll have to take the lead."

At that she gave me her beer. Determination was etched on her face, "Hold this for me. I'm gonna get me a Ranger Colonel tonight." She managed to somewhat walk, unable to do so gracefully in heels, and headed towards Sanderson.

I was a very bad person.

While I dumped out her beer I contemplated what Murphy and his laws would do in retaliation.

"Hey…ma'am."

Hey ma'am?

I turned and saw another woman, this one not at all skanky or half intoxicated. She too wore sneakers.

On her hand was a wedding band.

A Ranger wife, thank God.

In a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, an Afro all teased and huge hoops dangling from her ears, she gave me a smile and a glimpse of a tongue stud. She held out her hand to shake my hand.

I gave her the empty bottle and smiled, "Hi," praying she would not be offended and I would just grow up one day, I quickly asked, "You're not a groupie are you?"

She made a face and tossed the bottle over her shoulder, "Hell no! I just came over to tell you nice job. I haven't seen anyone chase a groupie away so quickly without pulling hair."

I could not help but grin at the compliment, "I didn't really want to touch her."

She laughed.

It was a big stud on her tongue too. That sort of thing just had to be painful. She held out her hand again, "I'm LaToya. You're G's wife?"

Shaking her hand wouldn't kill me.

I forced myself to shake her hand. It went against every last fiber in my being, but I did it. I shook her hand. Then I nodded, "Yes. Whom do you belong to?"

She just laughed.

Oh how she laughed.

She then pointed to the Ranger that Gordon was consulting with. The group that had taken him from me had broken down into teams of three. "The one playing with G, Sergio, he belongs to me. I let him out for the night."

Ah, she was a Ranger wife.

Woohoo, I had met one of my kind.

She then nudged me with her elbow. Why was she so touchy! I tried to not let it bug me. It wasn't working.

"Look girl, you are one hard sister to get a hold of. We have been trying to narrow you down."

Who was _we _ and _why _was I wanted?

Luckily, I was not forced to ask that question. She told me, "We Rangers Wives meet three times a month…Mrs. G…unless you have a name you prefer?"

"Angela," I told her.

She tapped my shoulder with her hand.

What was with this woman?

I stepped back and stepped into muck. Muck! I felt my foot sliding down in it, heard the muck, and felt the cold wetness seep into my sneaker. My shoes were never going to get clean. With all I could munster I pulled my sneaker from the muck and shook it off as best I could.

Why couldn't the boys have a party at a restaurant like normal people?

"Angela, tomorrow the Ranger Wives meet and we would like you to come."

Wow.

I had been invited to a gathering.

It was neat, yet, I had to ask, "This isn't like the Army Wives Meeting? I went to one of those and fell asleep."

It hadn't been pretty.

She seemed to think it was funny. I was back far enough she didn't touch me. But I was not safe. Someone else bumped into me. A Ranger. A drunk Ranger who began to apologize immediately, then he vomited on me, still apologizing, and apologizing after he vomited all down the side of me.

The warm vomit seeped into my jeans. Into my shirt. Plus it reeked of beer.

Outwardly I was calm.

Inwardly, however, a simple thought crossed my mind. _Don't scream! Don't scream! Don't scream!_

I didn't scream.

I looked at him and oh so calmly told him, "_Go away before I kill you_."

He was a dead man. These jeans had come from Milan. These jeans were one of my favorite pairs.

He reached for me. To help clean me up and I smacked his hand away. A look crossed his face. It wasn't anger, fear, pain, or empathy.

Noooo…he was ready to hurl again.

I, not wanting to be a vomit magnet any longer, jumped back, slipped, and landed flat on my butt in the muck while he vomited all over LaToya.

She was less understanding then I was.

I, waist deep in muck, covered in vomit, and in ruined jeans was feeling her anger. Though less inclined to start smacking the poor Ranger.

Next time someone passed selection I was so planning the fiesta.

**Around Midnight…**

LaToya and I sat on a rock. We somehow managed to fit both our butts on a rock. We had our cokes and were trying to dry off.

She had tried to pull me out of the muck.

It hadn't gone so well.

We were both covered in the nasty mess from head to toe, not to mention the vomit, while the party raged around us.

She had already given me the finer points to the Rangers Wives Meeting and the place, time, and everything else. So I decided to head on down tomorrow. We had begun to discuss the pros and cons of the commissary when our husbands found us. I had no idea where they had run off to and I didn't want to know. I wanted to go home and do laundry, then shower, and maybe make-out with my husband; preferably in that order.

When Gordon spotted me he blinked.

He came up to me at a loss for words.

I pointed a finger at him and gave him a look that could have melted steel, "Not. A. **_Single._** Word."

All he apparently could do was blink, he moved his lips and I thrust my finger at him, "Ah! I don't want to hear it!"

It was Hoot who spoke, "Damn girl…did someone chuck on ya?"

Then I pointed at him and continued to dangerously glare, "Not another word. Or I will deep fry you."

This just amused him to no end. A smile grew over his lips and he shoved Gordon, "Damn! You got you a lil firecracker."

Gordon turned to him, "Can the firecracker and I bum a ride back? I don't think Sanderson will let her in his Bronco like this."

A Ranger who I didn't know told us, "Can't man, the _colonel_ left with a groupie bout an hour ago."

Inwardly I beamed, Sanderson needed some lovin.


	33. Chapter 33

_Authors Note: Hi! Ok, let me apologize beforehand. I can't do a lovey dovey scene that includes hanky-panky to save my life. If I asked my friend Lily to do it, well…it'd turn into porn. In the hopes to keep this from turning into fluff, there won't be any play by play and no detailed hanky-panky. Sorry._

32.

Hoot's driving skills did not get any better with nightfall. Plus, I rode in the bed of the truck with Gordon. So not only was I covered in muck and Ranger Vomit, I had dirt, leaves, and what appeared to be ash sticking to me from bouncing around the bed. I was "Murphy's of Murphy's Law" twisted idea of a cupcake.

Plus I was bruised.

I swear the man hit every bump in the road he could find.

Needless to say, I was no beaming ray of sunshine.

We arrived at the apartment building where a handful of Rangers were BBQing in the parking lot. It was one in the morning. I apparently was missing something because Gordon and Hoot paused when they were offered a hotdog.

Loudly, I informed Gordon that I'd be in the shower, and headed into the apartment building.

Let them have a hotdog!

In I went.

I stomped through the first floor and up the steps, leaving a trail of muck behind me with each step. All the way to our floor. Down the hall and to our door, I had to dig in my jeans for the keys.

There was wet muck in my pocket and it was gross. I couldn't dig the keys out. My days of one-armed handstands were long gone.

So I had to wait for Gordon. Who when I told him thought it was the funniest damn thing in the world.

Once in the apartment I just took everything off. Piece by nasty piece and told him to just burn everything. The jeans were ruined! The sneakers ruined! Plus, I was pretty sure the vomit smell was never coming out of the shirt.

Once I was out of the clothes I ran into the bedroom and bathroom, and into the shower.

**About an hour later…**

It had taken close to an hour to get clean. I used half a bottle of shampoo and half a bar of soap at least, plus most the hot water and I still had my doubts. I stepped out of the shower and saw a t-shirt and pair of Hanes waiting for me on the bathroom sink.

It made me smile and feel so loved.

Gordon was so well trained.

Once I dried off I pulled on the pj's and toweled my hair. It was in dire need of a dye job. I would have to get something with Annette. Though I was unsure what color I wanted to dye it. Stick with red? Or go for black? Try and be a blonde?

I tugged at the wet strands and pursed my lips.

Maybe tomorrow I would have a flash of brilliance.

With that thought, I hung up the towel and strolled out of the bathroom. My toe rings clinked on the floor with each step.

The clock on the bedroom floor glowed red numbers at me.

**2:16**

Gordon wasn't in bed.

Not so tired myself, I rubbed my neck and padded across the thin carpet in the bedroom. Past the metal bed frame which was being used to hold my drying bras, which would never see a dryer hopefully.

In the doorway of the bedroom I spotted him. He was on the couch, legs plopped up on the coffee table, watching what sounded like "Married with children."

Out I went, rubbing my bare thigh. I came to a stop right in front of him and nudged his knees. He too had changed. He'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt to sleep in.

My clothes were gone, in the dumpster I hoped.

He looked up at me with those striking blue eyes of his.

"I want to go to bed," I told him.

All I got was a nod, "All right. I'll be in in a few minutes…I want to see how Al's meeting goes."

Perfect.

Maybe I should have tried bright neon lights. Something less subtle. While a plan formulated I walked to the front door and locked all three locks. I didn't want any surprises or early wake ups. It was then I decided to just wing it. If he couldn't pick up on my clues he was obviously not in the mood, and I would just go to bed and knit.

I padded back over the carpet towards him. I ran my fingers over his shoulders and walked around the couch, as if I were going to sit and watch TV with him.

Instead I straddled his lap.

He looked up at me, mildly surprised. To which I reiterated, "I want to go to bed."

Puzzled he blinked, "You're not tired?"

"No."

It was then the light-bulb turned on and everything clicked for him. "Oh! Oh…you're sure. I mean…you're positive you want to go to bed, not just, go to bed and go to sleep?"

I tried to inch closer. Though I wasn't sure that was even possible. The soles of my feet rested against his cloth covered thighs and I took his face in my hands. I brushed my lips against his softly and asked, "Do you want to?"

It was almost like what happened when the gates at a rodeo open and the bull or horse shoots out. It was fast like lightning! Gordon almost came off the couch as he grabbed my face and kissed me. Not softly. It was almost as if all his pent up needs and everything came out in that kiss. It was all encompassing and I felt it throughout my entire body and found I didn't want him to stop.

The kiss lasted forever.

I tried to get closer and found he was in the way. So I had to settle for wrapping my arms around his neck. Then I wanted his shirt off. It had to come off. I stopped kissing him and he gave me a look as if his world had ended. So I informed him, "Your shirt has to come off. Now."

If I had asked he probably would have put some music on and stripped. The shirt came off in a matter of seconds. Since I had seen him topless, I wanted to see him bottomless. I was curious. It was allowed. So I asked, "Your pants?"  
Without moving me he managed to shimmy them down and kick them off, they hit the TV.

Damn he was good.

I hadn't been moved in the process. I did scoot back so I could get a better look at him. Being curious and all. Gordon, being a smartass, asked me, "Would you like a flashlight?"

I looked him right in the eye with a straight face and told him, "Yes, I would."

He just grabbed my face and kissed me again.

I really wanted to look. For just a second I was bummed, then a flash of brilliance came. I reached down between us and gently touched him. He almost went through the ceiling. Against my lips he gasped, "Sweet Jesus, you need to warn me next time you do that."

Against his lips I asked, "Do you want me to stop."

His answer was quick, "No."

"No," I asked, continuing my curious exploration, careful not to hurt him. He appeared to be at a loss for words. That was until he could no longer kiss me. Reaching a point where he covered my hand with his, his voice hoarse, "You're going to have to stop that for the moment."

My nose brushed his and I spoke against his lips, "Ok."

A labored breath came from his chest, "Your panties are going to have to come off."

Slowly I trailed kisses over his bottom lip.

To which he added, "They have to come off now."

A warmth of excitement filled me. I knew why he wanted them off and it didn't scare me. I didn't feel cold or numb. The opposite. It was both exhilarating and suddenly a hundred degrees in the apartment. His thumbs hooked in my Hanes and I helped him maneuver them off, inch by inch. He dropped them on the floor by his shirt and his hands began to roam over my thighs. Boy, I was mighty glad I had shaved my legs in the shower.

The calluses on his hands against my smooth skin sent pleasurable shivers through my entire body. The feeling was amazing. A little noise escaped from my lips that articulated my thought. He looked up at me with a look that made my inwards heat up, I felt a blush burn over my cheeks. I gasped and knew that it was right. This was what love and hanky-panky was supposed to be like, feel like.

His palms roamed upward, over my stomach, and up under my shirt to my breasts. His lips ran over my neck. Each kiss I felt and treasured. I inched closer to him. Wanting to be closer. "I love you," I whispered against his ear.

He turned his head to look at me. Which stopped his kisses , which I was not so happy about. But when he kissed me and told me he loved me, then I was ok with it.

Again his hands began to roam, they roamed downward while he kissed me softly, slowly, and gently. Taking his time for the both of us. Even though we knew by some internal factor what to do, everything just felt so perfect and we were ready and we knew it.


	34. Chapter 34

33. **Gordon **

It hadn't been the first night I had stayed awake all night, nor the last. It also was not the first time I had stayed up all night with Angela curled up against me. But, it was the first time for both under such circumstances.

I had never been able to just watch her sleep and be perfectly safe. We had always either been safe, or not safe.

It was a gift.

She was so peaceful when she slept. Curled up on her side and pressed up as close as physically possible to me as she could get. Before it had been close, it had been great. Suddenly it wasn't close enough anymore.

I watched her sleep so peacefully and knew that Hoot was right. Sex changed everything. She wasn't just my friend, dependant, companion, confidant, wife and girlfriend; now she was more. He had told me everything would change. In his own little twisted way he had warned me about jumping too quick, by the grace of God alone I had listened. The man knew more about relationships then he chose to let on.

"_A'ight G, I don't know why you ain't you know, romantically involved with the Mrs.'s. But if you ain't there don't push it. You got good what you got man. She's your friend. She's your chef. She does the laundry and cleanin and don't ask no questions when you come home late all muddy. So you got to be patient man, trust me, if you push an she ain't ready, it'll be all weird. Believe me on that G. You see G, we men, we don't need no emotional attachment to have sex. That's the blessin of a one-night stand. However, once you got a gem then it's ok to wait. Sex can complicate the hell outta stuff."_

From a man who ate fried chicken gizzards, he was good. Better then any Army Shrink I had to speak with.

She moved in her sleep. Turning so she was somewhere between on her stomach and side, curled up in a ball so her face lay between the mattress and my arm. She never woke up when I touched her. I pushed her loose hair away from her face. I traced the visible scars on her arms and collarbone with my fingertips. Sometimes I wondered what she was dreaming about. Did she dream about me? Did she dream about having children? Did she dream about traveling or a normal childhood?

My eyes looked up at the clock on the floor.

It glowed at me, **4:17**.

At 4:30 I had to go out for PT. I had two Rangers who would expect me to be there for a nice five mile run. Every last bit of my soul told me not to go. My body agreed whole-heartedly.

I wanted nothing more then to just lay in bed with her all curled up, comfortable and warm. Well, that wasn't true. I would have also wanted to wake her up and maybe have some quality time. But there wasn't enough time. I didn't want a quickie. She deserved more then a hasty ten minutes and I wanted more then a lousy ten minutes.

My fingertips traced upwards to her lips. Over the curve of her bottom lip. She had such smooth skin. It was softer then mine. It usually smelled flowery too. I inched down and smelled her hair. It smelled like her, it smelled like flowers from whatever shampoo she used.

It had been decided and was only further confirmed, we were getting remarried. It was set in my mind. I'd have to pick a time, preferably sooner. Maybe before we testified. I would settle for after. She wouldn't care when. It probably wasn't a big deal to her. She would do it to make me happy and that should have made me feel guilty, I should have felt like shit. Asking for a re-wedding to make me feel at peace when the wife didn't care one way or another.

It brought such words as selfish and childish to mind.

Yet I didn't care.

I stared at her and didn't feel married. I didn't feel like a husband. I wanted that feeling. I felt like a boyfriend. The ring on my finger was little more then decorative. I wanted a new ceremony where the vows I took meant something entirely different. I had taken them to heart before, but I was a different person then.

I looked back at the red numbers, **4:26**.

As carefully as I could I reached over and popped the alarm clock. It didn't need to go off and possible wake her up.

When I finally got out of bed I tried very hard to do so without waking her up. She looked so content sound asleep.

I got to my feet and to the duffel bag that held my clothes. Once I unpacked we'd be moving into a house, so I didn't bother. I grabbed a pair of shorts and briefs then pulled them on, didn't need to be flashing the base.

Next came a shirt and socks followed by my sneakers.

With one last look at her I headed out.

**10:32**

I was irritated.

I wasn't mad, but just annoyed. Of all the nights for a wargame. Of all the nights in the past years of my being a Ranger. We have a war game the one night I start having sex. I swore the Lt. Colonel had it out for me.

All around me my guys, Hoot's guys, Sanderson's guys, and Steele's guys were changing, calling there significant others, and bitching in the locker room.

I'd call Angela later.

I was too annoyed to talk to anyone and I didn't want to talk to her like that. I'd call her once I calmed down.

I threw my dirty shirt into the locker without folding it. It might be an hour or so before I called her. After that assessment I looked at the inside of my locker door. It only assured me that I needed to wait. The pictures were of us, of her, and she was always smiling.

There was one of us at Myrtle Beach, the first beach she had ever seen.

There was one of us at my graduation from boot camp and Ranger training.

One of us at Disney World with guys from boot camp, which had been a trip to remember.

Then my personal favorite, a picture I had gotten of her with her camera waking up. In nothing more then one of my green camo t-shirts. Her then brown hair all tousled and a annoyed grin on her face from when she realized I had the camera.

It was my favorite.

Somehow it always put me in a good mood.

Which was what I needed.

Beside me someone hit the locker pretty hard and then someone landed on him. The _someone_ was Hoot and the _him _Sanderson.

I gazed at the both of them in various states of undress from the drills we had just been part of. Sanderson had pants on and a shirt in hand. Hoot had a towel around his waist.

"We was thinkin," he told me.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my locker to continue my search for a shirt, "All dirty thoughts I assume?"

There were no sex jokes.

No penis jokes.

No questions about my love life.

No bragging about the Groupies from the party.

This got my attention.

Sanderson spoke up, "Look, something has just been on my mind about that defense attorney for scumbag. How did he find your apartment to leave his card?"

I found a shirt. It was black, no good.

"We're on the prosecutions witness list."

Hoot shoved Sanderson off him and opened his locker, two down from mine. Someone grabbed his towel and he began to swear at them.

Sanderson leant closer and whispered, "No. This was before…remember?"

I tried, couldn't, so I just agreed, "Ok."

"How did they find your exact apartment number?"

Ok, I could see where he was going with this. I looked at him. Trying very hard to ignore Hoot's screaming. Sanderson could see my expression, so he told me, "I looked into it and found out that the lawyer was on base here talking with our Captain and Rangers, most of which have told him to piss off. All except one Ranger."

He had my complete attention, "Are you saying a Ranger on base gave me up?"

He nodded.

I was pissed off now, there would be no calling Angela till later. I had to know who the hell the Ranger was and then call him on his mistake.

"Who the hell is it?"

Sanderson was silent for a moment.

Not because Hoot just happened to run by, after whoever had stolen _his_ beloved towel.

Steele just happened to walk by and Sanderson grabbed my arm, "Look. Before you attack anyone, lets just remember that prior to you getting accepted into selection you and Steele were both up for consideration for Captain later this year. It's politics and nothing else, he was just exploiting your weakness."

I was well aware that Angela was my weakness.

"He sold me out in order to make Captain? A position I don't even want?"

Sanderson wasn't happy about it.

He added, "He's a politician G. He wants to advance and he didn't hurt you. He just told the lawyer where you could be found, remember that."

I would remember that.

I was so pissed and Sanderson was still holding my arm. I looked at my arm and then him. Sanderson told me, "You're emotional and lack finesse. I'm not letting go till I'm positive you won't destroy your career."

Fine.

I'd play his eloquent game.

"Steele!" I shouted above the noisy locker room, while I grabbed Sanderson's clean shirt. We were the same size and Sanderson always had a surplus in his locker.

The man turned at his locker a mere fifteen feet away, "Yes?"

"Have you heard if you'll make Captain? If you want to be sure I am not in the running I'll let you borrow my fake birth certificate. Or better yet, come on up north with me and record my testimony, that'll guarantee you'll not have me to worry about later this year."

Beside me Sanderson groaned and sagged against the locker.

Steele's eyes were round as pool balls. The man was at a loss for words, along with half the locker-room. I definitely lacked finesse…or whatever Sanderson had said I lacked.


	35. Chapter 35

34.

It was close to noon when I woke up all warm and comfortable, curled up in the blankets in our little bed. If someone had not been poking me in the face I probably would not have woken up.

Not that it was a bad thing since I had things to do. But I was so comfy.

I opened my eyes to see Annette with a blonde bob in jeans and a white wife beater and suddenly remembered we were supposed to go to the mall off base.

Whoops.

She wasn't mad.

Quite the opposite actually.

She sat on top of the covers inches away with a coffee mug in hand, a huge grin plastered across her face. "You know, Ang, if you had just slept in wit'out any good ole reason I would have been upset. _However!_ Your apartment shows clues of sexual activity."

Clues of sexual activity?

Was she serious? She had to be taking Hoot's place as head overseer of who was sleeping with whom, and when their girlfriends would be single. She was a mirror image of her brother in more ways then one.

When I didn't answer she sipped whatever was in her mug. Then informed me of these clues. Holding her fingers up one by one with each clue, "First of all, the couch is a mess, congrads. Second, Jimmy could hear y'all through the wall at bout three. He told me to tell y'all to get busy against the other wall, he was tryin to sleep. Thirdly, there be clothes skattered all over out yonder. Good for you girl. And number four, you got a big ole hickey on your neck."

A hickey?

I reached up and felt around my exposed neck.

Annette's finger pointed it out for me, "Right there sweetie."

Oh good.

Annette clapped, "My baby girl is all dun growed up. On our way to the mall you can tell me everything. Now hurry and get up, I make you lunch."

Lunch?

I looked up at her, "What's for lunch?"

"Fatback," she told me.

What on Earth was fatback?

"And that is?"

She bounced on the mattress. Where all the energy came from was a mystery to me. She then clapped, "Fat from pork fried up wit salt an you put it on a biscuit wit honey or tomatoes."

Oh my Jesus.

Pig fat?

That sounded nasty, "Can you make anything else?"

She thought about it, "Chitlins?"

"What is that?"

"Pig intestines. I fry them up real good."

Oh dear God, I sat up, holding the blankets to my chest, "Anything else?"

"Grilled Cheese?"

I could eat that, "Make me one of those."

That sounded edible.

I watched her get up, careful not to spill her drink, and cruise out of the bedroom. At that I dropped back down into the bed. A huge smile grew over my face. I rolled onto my stomach, on Gordon's side of the bed, and smelled his pillow. I curled up in the small groove left by him. Unable to stop smirking. I was slightly curious as to what Gordon had done to my neck. Just not curious enough to get out of bed.

"Angela!"

I looked up, Annette stood in the doorway, a hand on her hip.

"What," I asked.

She thrust her hand toward the bathroom door, "Our money ain't gonna to spend itself."

That was true.

"Ok, scat, I'm not dressed."

Grinning, she strolled back into the living area.

I waited, then rolled across the bed, further entangling myself in the blankets and getting to my feet. At that I maneuvered into the bathroom, closed the door, and dropped the sheets. I wrapped myself in a towel and then peeked up at myself in the mirror.

Sure enough there was a purple hickey on my neck.

I touched it and wondered just when I got it. Curious, I opened the towel and peeked downwards. No other hickeys.

From outside Annette shouted, "_Angela! Today!_"

I was ready to kill her. I really was. That was until she added, "There are some MP's here to see you!"

Shit.

I had completely forgotten about them.

I peeked out the bathroom door and shouted, "I'll be right out."

In the towel I ran out to the duffel bags and pulled some unmentionables, a pair of jeans, and one of my button up shirts. Then I scurried back into the bathroom and pulled all of them on. It wasn't until I had the white shirt on a buttoned did I realize I had a black bra on.

Then I decided I didn't care.

I left my hair down to hide the monster scar on the back of my neck. Then I hurried out into the living area before Annette got too chatty. Sadly, I was too late.

There were two MP's.

One stood at the table inspecting my court papers.

Annette was talking to the other, and I caught the tail end of what she was telling him. "Gordon would never lay a hand on Ang, he's well trained. You wanna know who's beaten their woman, I give you three names. There be three men here on base who be beaten the livin hell outta their wives. No lie."


	36. Chapter 36

35.

Since my car had ended up in the bottom of a ravine, totaled, and there had been little time to buy a new car, Annette led the way to her Jeep.

We were off to the mall and that was that.

However, no sooner had we opened the door to the apartment building and climbed down the steps, a man with a long white box approached us. He was a young man with acne that covered his face. "Excuse me, madam's, do you know where I can find a Mrs. Sgt. Gary I Gordon?"

Who was this young man and what did he want?

Annette immediately asked, "An who wants to know?"

The kid looked at the box, "I have a delivery from a Sgt. Gary I Gordon."

Oh!  
I raised my hand, "That's me. Did he send me another gun?"

The kid's eyes widened.

He handed me the box quickly, "Sign here." Where the clipboard came from was a mystery to me. Annette snatched it and gave her autograph while I shook the white box.

It wasn't heavy enough to be another gun.

I peeked under the white lid and saw flowers. Flowers? Puzzled, I handed the lid to Annette who oooed and awed. I only got flowers when he was in trouble or thought he needed to get me in a good mood.

There was a single red rose in the box with a card.

I lifted the card out and read it.

_Working late, I'll see you tomorrow night. Love you, G_

I grinned at the G.

Annette snatched the card from me and read it, she then cooed, "Awww." She looked to the flower boy, "Ain't that just the sweetest thing you ever saw?"

I took out the red rose and smelled the red flower quite pleased with myself for no apparent reason. It was a pretty flower.

"Do red roses mean love or something?"

She shrugged, "Hell if I know. Mike brings me candy."

**The Mall…**

I had spent enough money in Victoria's Secret enough that Annette had decided to pull me out of the store. It was an amazing store. Had Annette not drug me out I would have spent even more money.

Then it was off to the Kabana Jewelry store.

I loved the Kabana stuff , which was full of opals and diamonds with different color gold. Very unique. I wandered along the counters looking down at the bright and beautiful opals and tried to decide which ones I liked the most.

Which ones were the most beautiful.

It was a very hard decision.

"Angela?"

I looked over my shoulder.

Annette pointed out somewhere in the mall, "I'm going to go use a payphone and call Mike. I'll be back."

Ok, yeah sure.

I nodded and looked back at the jewelry in wonder. Case by sparkling case. Until I came to the end. The old women watched me like hawks. When I raised my hand one stiffly walked over to me, "Can I help you?"

Immediately I began to point out a bracelet, a few toe rings, and some earrings. "Could you take those out for me and then I want to know if you could enlarge that solid gold men's ring."

She didn't look so thrilled. But she began to open cases, while doing so she asked, "Did you want a mirror?"

A mirror?

No…I already knew I was buying everything. She just didn't realize it, I shook my head and explained it to her, "No ma'am. I want to buy all that and then I need help picking a man's ring."

From her expression one would have thought Tom Cruise came through the door. I sudden got a huge smile from her, it was like I was her new best friend.

Shopping was so much fun.

**An hour later…**

Just where had Annette wandered off to? I had found the phones after spending a good amount of money on pretty shiny stuff. Annette was not on the phone.

Where would she have gone?

My eyes scanned the busy mall in curiosity. The crowd had grown with high schools letting out. Even though I was not scared, I was slightly upset. Especially since I didn't have the car keys.

But, I was an adult.

I was a grown woman.

Just because Annette was not where she said she would be was no reason for me to loose my mind. She was probably just in the bathroom. That's what I told myself. She was on Chemo and had probably just run to go to the bathroom.

I took a calming breath, held my numerous bags closer, and turned to head toward the bathrooms , which were within eyesight.

I turned and saw a man I had not seen in forever.

It was Gordon's brother Greg.

They looked so similar and so different. His eyes were not as warm as Gordon's, they were just blue. They had no sparkle. No soul. His hair was blonde, not gold, just blonde and cut trim. He was shorter then Gordon and tipping towards three hundred pounds. He was packed in a suit and had splashed on enough aftershave my eyes began to water.

I looked him over and wondered just why I had been afraid of him. Other then him smacking me around…I couldn't bring myself to step back, to be afraid of him. Actually, when I thought about how I felt seeing him so close I felt more angry then anything else.

I narrowed my eyes and didn't recognize my voice as my own. It was hard and close to bitchy, "What are you doing here?"

What angered me even more was he looked me over.

The man, a married man, looked me over as if I were a piece of meat. I was his brother's wife! I was someone he refused to help! Now he was looking at me like I was attractive? Oh…if Gordon were only here.

"I need to speak with you about your upcoming testimony."

Oh! So that's why he was bugging me.

I shook my head, "No. You can talk to my lawyer like everyone else."

He reached for me and I quickly stepped away from him.

He may have been bigger then me, but I was willing to bet money I was quicker. He followed me and called my name, "Angela." Which just further pissed me off. He had no right to even speak my name! He grabbed my arm and didn't let go.

In fact, he pulled me to a stop and I almost fell on the floor from the force. There was definitely going to be a bruise. That just made my pissitivity level rise! I turned on my heel and tried to pull my arm out of his grip.

It wouldn't come free, he held onto me too tight.

"I'll scream and then I'll call Gordon and he'll kick your ass!"

He didn't care.

He yanked me forward and it hurt my arm. "No, you'll listen to me. I spent years working my way up and I won't let two screw-ups ruin it for me. If Gordon brings me down, I'll ruin his career in the Army. You tell him that."

I tried to pry my arm free and he tightened his grip.

There was no way in hell I was telling Gordon that, so I expressed myself in the same way I had to the cop. "Kiss my ass."

Anger flashed behind his blue eyes and I knew he wanted to hit me. I could see how much he wanted to hit me. Instead, he drug me towards the bathroom. Towards the long hall that lead to the bathroom. A long hall that would give us privacy.

Not what I wanted.

I tried to pull my arm, smack him with my bags, I even kicked off my flip-flops in an attempt to get traction on the floor to stop him. It didn't work.

He physically drug me into the hall.

Did no one see me? Or did they just not care?

He got halfway down the hall and shoved me into the wall. He leant close, too close. "You tell that to Gordon or I will break every last one of your talented fingers."

I wasn't sure how to respond and I never got to. The man tensed up and then fell in a heap at my feet.

Behind him stood Annette, a taser in hand.

She calmly handed it to me, "Hold this please. Don't worry, he ain't dead, just got a lil shock."

I took the device and saw she had it on the highest setting. Then looked as she took his wallet from his pocket and took the man's cash out.

"Annette!" I scolded.

Without shame she told me, "Well he should have learned not to pick on innocent lil women." She then stood and dumped his wallet in a trashbin. I was almost inclined to take it out…almost.


	37. Chapter 37

36.

**The next day…**

I was in the middle of three very important jobs.

**1**. I was painting my toenails to match my three new toe rings.

**2**. I was also in the middle of making corned beef for dinner , which was a favorite of Gordon's. Easy to cook and reheat, plus, with the flavors reheating can't ruin it.

**3**. Then I had five batches of silks dying on the floor. Five tubs of all different colors lined in a row against the wall.

I was very busy and less then pleased when someone began to knock on the front door. I knew it wasn't Annette, who was out on the hunt for lunch, because she didn't know how to knock on a door. I also knew it wasn't any of the boys because they were still out playing G.I. Joe.

I wiped my hands on my ruined jeans and hobbled towards the door, not wanting to ruin my wet toenails.

That would have been a tragedy.

I peeked out the peephole and saw a man in uniform. What the hell? With semi-clean hands I opened the door and he looked to me. Maybe he was lost. I had never seen him before in my days on the base.

"Can I help you sir?"

He looked at me like he was being punished, he was that happy. "Are you the wife of Sgt. Gary I Gordon?"

Yes I was, I nodded, "Yes sir."

The man gave me the once over. Not ogling me, oh no. The man was obviously in some form of disbelief. He stared at my bejeweled toes, my tattered jeans and black wife-beater. He didn't seem disturbed or bothered by the scars on my arms, as if they were normal.

He then handed me a piece of paper, "I'm your new roomie."

Huh?

I blinked and gaped.

He shared my feelings, "Believe me ma'am, I'm as thrilled about this as you are. I'm not quite sure how they expect to fit us all in there."

All?

I looked over the paper and skimmed it enough to get that he and another guy were new Army Rangers right out of training and apparently, my new roommates. I looked up at him, suddenly noticing the bag by his feet, "This is a one bedroom apartment."

"I know," was his answer, he held out his hand, "Sergeant Morris Yune, nice to meet you…roomie. Sergeant Shughart will be up soon…he's trying to fit his bike in the elevator."

**Noonish…**

Annette stared at the Suzuki bike parked in the living room, against the wall and shook her head, "This just ain't gonna to work! How does the base plan to fit twenty-two more Rangers in here? This building is filled to capacity as it is! I just lost the bedroom in a Paper Rock Scissors match to two Rangers I ain't never met!"

Hoot had three roomies and I have acquired two in the time it took to get lunch. Sanderson too was going to find a surprise when he got back.

I felt her pain.

All the way from the bedroom. Where I had moved the majority of my work since the two men had set up camp in the living area. Or, as much as they could before they had to go.

The Asian guy, Morris, claimed the couch, he had all his stuff on it and the coffee table.

The other guy had put his bike in the apartment, motorcycle, whatever. Then he dropped his bags in the living room under the window. I guess he was going to be getting a sleeping bag.

I wasn't giving up the mattress.

I watched Annette turn and stomp through the apartment, less then pleased, her world had been turned up side down. I just smiled, "It's not that bad."

Her eyes widened, "I am now living with two perfect strangers! I am a newly wed woman!"

Calmly I told her, tracing my big toe over a threadbare spot on the carpet, "At least you're not homeless."

She narrowed her dark eyes and plopped down on the chair. Still not pleased, but no longer being vocal about it. I could see in her eyes the way she watched me, she was curious, but just couldn't bring herself to ask.

When I stood and headed back in the room to finish tidying up, her voice followed me, "How long was that married couple housin list?"

A smile came over my lips.

I flipped on the bathroom light and checked the silk. All the material was submerged.

It was going to be a pain sharing such a small bathroom with three men.

"Twenty deep," I answered.

She groaned, sounding like a spoiled child. Then the groaning stopped. She came rushing into the bathroom, "What if we swapped roomies?"

Swapped roomies?

I lifted a piece of silk from a tub of purple dye, I wanted a darker purple so I let the silk fall back in, "What?"

"What if Mike an I move in wit you and Gordon?"

Oh yeah, Gordon would love that. He'd kill Steele in a day or less. But how did I tell her that her husband was one of the more likely candidates to die of friendly fire?

I looked back over my shoulder at her and chewed on my bottom lip, "I would but…Gordon, well, he and Steele don't get along."

She shrugged, "You got Gordon trained."

Yeah, trained, but he still did as he pleased. Oh so gently I told her, "You can put a dog on a leash, but you can't stop it from biting."

She sagged and plopped down on my side of the mattress.

"If you're so unhappy move off base," I told her, then turned back to my silk.

"Can't," she hissed.

I rolled my eyes, glad my back was to her, "Why's that?"

"Cause I love my stupid husband an he's happy here…the bastard."

The obscenity made me laugh.

She sounded like a child.

"Well I love my stupid husband too and sometimes…as wives…we have to just suck it up and do what makes them happy. Is he happy?"

"Yeah," was her answer.

"Then you're doing a good job. Just remember sweetie," where that came from I had no Earthly idea, but since I was sharing Army Wife knowledge with her, I felt like calling her sweetie, "Housing is temporary. Your marriage isn't and if you want to make it work, make the best out of this situation."

She stood.

I looked over my shoulder, the woman had a plan. "You right! I'm gonna go throw all their shit outta the bedroom an get my fun zone back!" At that she stomped out.

Good Lord, I had created a monster.


	38. Chapter 38

**Gordon**

Rumor had been going around that a new class of graduate Rangers had been moved into singles housing. Naturally, I didn't believe this. Housing was tight as it could get. We had no room to house anymore people.

I did not come to believe this until a little after one when it was time for lunch. I had just finished up with the war game. My men had just had their showers and had given me their written reports of what had transpired and all that jazz. I in turn would look over these and write up my own, which I would then give to my captain, along with the men's.

It would take me the better part of the afternoon, at least three hours.

Each of my guys had their orders and a two-hour lunch break to do as they wished.

Since I had paperwork I decided to grab some thing from the chow hall and find a quiet place to start my reading. This was as I made my way to the chow hall. In the journey to the chow hall I came across Annette and Steele having a heated debate over new roomies.

This got my attention.

I came to a stop and spoke up, "Annette…what new roomies?"

The deranged woman turned on her heel and waved a finger at me. Like she was casting some sort of spell, "I dun got two new Ranger Roomies in our apartment! I just moved their asses from our damn bedroom and you better worry some too cutey, you got you two new roomies too."

Even with her mush mouth I clearly understood, "Roomies? We live in a one bedroom apartment!"

Her finger twirled again, "Damn straight! This'll be like that disaster of my girl scout campin trip all over agin!"

Well I didn't know if it would be that bad. But that wasn't my concern and I seriously doubted a six state forest fire would occur. My concern was Angela and her reaction to the two new roomies, "How's Angela?"

She put the hand on her hip, "She's dun happier then a piglet in a puddle a mud! Got her all redoin her lil nest and all, I tol her she shoulda put up a fight and she won't have none of it, damn girl is nestin!"

As much time as I spent with Hoot didn't help. I lost her after her piglet reference.

Shit.

I had to go check on her. Forget the chow hall, I'd make something at the apartment once I was sure she was all right.

**The Apartment…**

Had I not known which apartment we were in I would have found it. The sound of Annie Lennox could be heard once one set foot in the apartment building and I was willing to bet that it was Angela's cd. Or a Ranger extremely comfortable with his masculinity.

I took the steps two at a time and was inside the apartment in record time.

Sure enough that was where the music was coming from. Loudly, over a new boom-box. It wasn't ours and Lopez had his stuff packed. So I assumed it was one of the new roomies.

It sat on the kitchen counter beside a vase that held the rose.

I kicked the door closed and Angela's head popped up from behind the TV stand. There she was. A smile crossed her face at the sight of me and I knew that she was fine.

That smile just made my day.

She pushed a few strands of hair from her face that had escaped her ponytail and wiped her palms on a pair of old, battered, and stained jeans. "What's wrong? Why are you back so early? Did you get in another fight?"

I cruised around a Suzuki motorcycle and noticed she was in the middle of moving furniture around. "I heard we got some new roommates and wanted to be sure you were ok."

A grin crossed her face and yet, she didn't move from where she was standing. She was hiding something from me. I seriously doubted she broke something and she wasn't in the habit of hiding purchases behind furniture. Whatever she was hiding was on her person.

She pointed to bags by the motorcycle, "Yep. That stuff belongs to Randy. He lost the couch so he'll be camping it on the floor. I figure if I move the TV and stuff around it'll give them more room, and us more privacy."

Ok, whatever, I nodded like I cared.

What was she hiding?

My stomach growled from the smell of corned beef. Yet, I had a bigger issue at hand. Going with the new roomie approach I made my way right up to her. I tried not to get distracted by the outline of her bra under the black wife-beater she had on. Or how good she smelled. Or the fact she had dyed her hair a crimson shade of red , which looked incredibly sexy. Or that little grin she gave me when she grabbed the buttons on my jacket, my belt and tugged me closer.

Her little fingers roaming not so innocently over my stomach.

Momentarily distracting me.

"More privacy for us," I asked intrigued.

She nodded and licked her lips, stepping closer to me.

It would really be a pain, literally and figuratively, to have a hard on for the rest of the day.

My task came back into focus at that thought. There would be time for that later. Plenty of time, we had our whole lives ahead of us.

She stepped away from the wall and began to point out where she was moving the furniture to. Using the couch as a wall between the bedroom and the roomies, letting Randy sleep under the window on a stolen…commandeered cot.

It was then something on her bare arm caught my eye.

Something dark.

I peered to the side and saw the perfect impression of a handprint. A handprint bruised into her skin.

The tightening in my pants was non-existent.

She realized I saw it and was at a loss for words. I however, was not, "Where did that come from? Who touched you?"

She had not been bruised by another person in years. I had made sure of that.

Anger coursed through me.

Well, anger may not have been strong enough, homicidal tendencies actually to be more articulate.

She chewed on her bottom lip.

She looked at the bruise.

Then she told me, "I ran into your brother at the mall yesterday."

For a second I felt like someone had hit me with a sucker punch to the gut. Then I realized yeah, that was what it felt like. Those homicidal thoughts were just buzzing around my head.

"Greg did this?"

Wordlessly she nodded.

I looked back at the bruise, he had left a perfect impression of his hand. Oh how I would have loved to break every single bone in that hand of his. "What did he tell you?"

At first she was hesitant, thoughtful, then she leant closer to me till she was touching me with her body. "In a nutshell, he wanted to be sure you weren't going to say anything incriminating about him at trial."

He couldn't even threaten me to my face? He had to do it to Angela to pass on to me? That was bullshit. That pissed me off to no end.

"Annette buzzed him with her taser," Angela added.

I was familiar with the taser.

It had been stolen by Hoot and given to her as a birthday gift.

The idea that he had been buzzed with a military issued weapon was of little consolation to me. Unless it was I doing the buzzing with my rifle. I moved so I was facing her side, facing the bruise, and I did all I could do. I placed a kiss on the darkened skin.

I tried to kiss every bit of darkened skin. Whether or not I accomplished it is a horse of another color entirely. Whether it was guilt on not being there to protect her from him. Or the fact that it was my own flesh and blood that had bruised her. Or it was a little of both or some inner demon I wasn't about to deal with anytime soon, who the hell knew. Just kissing it made me feel somewhat better even though I knew it was shallow. It wasn't that I was avoiding the issue, deep down I was filing away just how I would deal with the issue, with him. But she didn't need to know that, to see that side of me anymore then I needed to give in to that particular demon.

It was then I decided I didn't want a stupid sandwich.

I wanted her.

I wanted her in the bedroom, on the mattress, and I wanted her as soon as humanly possible. I'd had her on the couch, on the floor, and against the wall and I now wanted her on something similar to a bed, like a real couple.

I could power-read through the reports later. It wouldn't take me that long to go through them.

She touched my face in a way that let me know she needed to touch me as much as I needed to touch her.

I stood up and slid my hands in hers, leading her toward the bedroom, a smile curled on her lips. She cocked her head, "What about work?"  
"I have time," was all I told her, all I could really tell her. I made sure that I lead her to the bedroom. There was something in me that needed to initiate this time, some little manly part that screamed at me. I needed it and I needed to know that I could start it. Maybe it was me being shallow or getting an ego, I didn't care, it was something that I had to prove to myself. I could shelter her, protect her, love her, make her laugh and comfort her; I had to know I could make her want me.


	39. Chapter 39

38.

There was something about watching Gordon look for his clothes that I found to be just positively fascinating.

He had found his pants. They had been hanging over the top of the bedroom door.

Then he found his t-shirt in one of my buckets of dye.

That shirt would need washing.

So he hurried to the duffel bag and began to dig through it for a new t-shirt.

I stayed on the top of the mattress wearing his camo jacket. It was worn so it was soft against my skin. Plus, it smelled like Gordon. It also had the faint whiff of gunpowder and oil. The sleeves hung past my fingers too. There was just something that I loved about his work jacket.

I loved his work clothes.

There was something about a man in uniform that got me all excited.

He found a shirt and quickly pulled it over his head, tucked it in, and asked, "Have you seen my belt?"

His belt was hanging over the side of the bed frame. I cleared my throat and pointed. Watching him with nothing less then amusement. I did happen to ask, "Are you going to be late tonight?"

In a matter of seconds the black canvas belt was looped and fastened.

He was missing something.

His blue eyes scanned the small room, "I don't know...I am going to need that jacket back. No matter how cute you look in it."

I pouted and looked down at the two patches on the front. One said ARMY and the other read GORDON. I loved the jacket. "Don't you have another one you can wear?"

He dropped down on the mattress and I looked up. I watched as he walked on his knees toward me and didn't stop till he was pressed right up against me, pretty much sitting on my lap.

His lips grazed mine as he spoke, "I'll steal one just for you today. How about that?"

That sounded ok.

I tucked my fingers into the pockets on his pants, "Ok."

He seemed happy with that answer. Instead of answering me with words he kissed me, slowly. Everything about the kiss was slow. The way his lips moved against mine, the speed in which he kissed me, even the amount of time it took him to push me back down into the mattress and slid the jacket from my body; never once breaking contact with me.

It made things tighten within me.

The kiss did not end when I no longer wore the jacket, oh no.

It continued while he pulled the jacket on.

He somehow kept himself balanced on his knees, pulled the jacket on, and kept kissing me all at once. He had skills. Skills he never informed me of apparently.

This thought vanished when something in his pocket began to vibrate.

I stopped kissing him and cocked my head, "What is that?"

His hand slid past mine and into his pants pocket, pulling out a beeper. He peeked at the top and made a face. Then he looked to me and stole a quick kiss, "I gotta go to work."

I smiled, stroked his face, and kissed his lips softly, "Have fun."

He kissed me in return, not so softly, and climbed off me. "I will…I'll call if I'm going to be late. Call me if there is something wrong, or they get on your nerves or anything."

I watched him dart out and couldn't suppress the smile on my face.

**Later that afternoon…**

I had finished with the living room.

So I moved onto the bedroom. It was obvious we needed more room, a lot of room. So I quickly decided to take apart the bedframe and put the frame somewhere else.

I had broken into the storage closet and gotten an electric drill. Go me.

I was so efficient.

Drill in hand, I began to dismantle the awkward sized metal frame piece by piece. Tossing the metal parts onto the mattress as they came off. Before long four large metal parts were shoved into the closet.

Then I looked to the box spring.

What the hell was I going to do with that? It was leant against the wall. I couldn't very well put it in the closet, it wouldn't fit! I put my hands on my hips and strolled around it. As if that would give me a strike of brilliance as to what to do with it, it couldn't hurt and I was at a loss.

It was then that I saw a large black case.

It was Gordon's Rifle. No surprise there.

I would have to move the rifle out of the way. Maybe I could throw the box spring off the building?

I had no clue.

But the rifle had to be moved. I grabbed the end of the box and pulled it finding it was heavy! The damned thing probably weighed thirty pounds! I hauled it out and drug it over to the mattress. Like I had seen Gordon do hundreds of times, I drug it onto the mattress. So it wouldn't be on the floor.

He adored his rifle.

It was his baby.

There was something nagging me. Something telling me to open up the case. Nosey, me, yes. I had seen the rifle before when he was shooting and when he cleaned it.

But…I wanted to see it again. So I flipped open the locks on the side of the case and lifted the lid.

A massive weapon looked up at me. Resting in foam. It was sleek, smooth, it was a beast. There was no doubt in my mind as to what the weapon was used for. I wasn't daft. I could connect the dots.

Gordon + Big Gun Sniper

Sniper Man who shoots people

It wasn't until I spotted a clip of bullets that it really sunk in. It was easy to understand that Gordon was a Ranger, a sniper, after all they were just words.

When I picked up the metal clip from the foam and looked at the bullets in it waiting.

When I saw how big the bullets were and pictured them being shot from the beast that rested in the foam. What the bullets would do to a person's soft body.

It was enlightening.

My eyes were drawn to the bed where the rifle box lay, where earlier we had been. I knew he was a different person at work.

He was manlier at work or whatever.

I set the clip back in the foam and closed the lid of the box. I locked the side and laid a soft kiss on the smooth case.

The Gordon who knew how to work the weapon in the box was a very different Gordon then the one who had come home to check on me.


	40. Chapter 40

**Gordon**

Captain Ekoline's office was small, tiny, and held a desk, and a chair behind the desk.

All he needed to conduct business.

When I placed the folder on his desk of all the paperwork he looked up at me. Sanderson had already dropped his folder or paperwork off, as had Steele. Hoot had been finishing his up last I saw him moments earlier.

"Did you have a nice lunch sergeant?"

My eyebrows rose.

"Excuse me sir?"

My captain took the folder and breezed through it. Then placed it atop the others and looked up at me, "I hear you visited your apartment during your lunch break. I hope everything is all right."

Someone had ratted me out.

Someone was going to find my foot lodged up their ass.

It wasn't like I had run off base to a strip-club. Plus, my intentions were completely noble. Except for the afternoon sex. Other then that there was nothing wrong. Plus, it had been once in my entire career and it was over a break, when I could pretty much get lunch from wherever the hell I wanted! Someone was so going to feel my wraith.

I could play their game.

"Not entirely sir."

This got Captain Ekoline's attention, "Oh?"

Yeah oh.

"Sir, when I learned that there were new Rangers moving into the apartments I went to see if my wife was handling the news well. In that trip I discovered a bruised handprint on her arm. It took me a while but I managed to get her to tell me what happened, I was back here within an hour and I still finished my paperwork and got my men prepared for qualifying tomorrow."

I swear my captain looked as annoyed and pissed as I felt. He threw his pen across the desk. Then leant back in his chair, "Son…off the record?"

Off the record.

Oh this was going to be good.

"Yes sir?"

"Son just how exactly are you able to continue to put one hundred and ten percent of yourself here, and be the bases best fucking husband? I'm at a loss. I expected you to hit a wall a good two weeks ago."

Well, I guess that was some sort of a compliment. I wasn't sure though. So I honestly told a man that I had grown to respect, "Sir, this isn't really stressful for me. It pisses me off more then anything…but, there aren't enough additional problems for this to be stressful just yet."

He nodded and considered my predicament for a moment, "Your brother is a politician?"

"Yes sir."

There was another moment of silence, then he ripped the phone from the receiver, "Fine. If your brother wants to fuck around, I'll fuck with him. What's the name of supercop? The one who interrogated your wife? You know what…that's not important."

While I had an idea where this was going and it wouldn't be good. The thought of my brother arrested was strangely enticing.

He pointed at me while punching three numbers on the phone, "He wants to avoid publicity, I'll give him just that. I'll muck his fucking career up. The DA will be kissing Army Ass by tomorrow."

Oh yeah, this was going to be good.

At that Hoot came in the office, paperwork in hand. His dark eyebrows rose in question as he set the folder down. I slightly shook my head. He didn't want to know.

The Captain began a tirade at that exact moment, "Whose this? Well I am Captain Ekoline over at the Army Base and I want to report a crime that took place yesterday…no don't fucking transfer me to patrol! This is the result of a ongoing investigation and court case and if someone doesn't fucking take this down then I'll have the police from this very base take care of this…I'm aware that it is out of their jurisdiction and I wouldn't have to resort to that if you shitheads would get your heads out of your asses and work. I don't give a fuck if this is being recorded!"

Hoot's eyes widened.

The Captain was going to do wonders for Army / Police interagency cooperation.

'_We still on?_' Hoot mouthed.

I gave him a nod and he then left.

God, if I drank, I could have used a beer.

I turned my attention back to Captain Ekoline, whose tirade continued relentlessly, "There is a damn detective in your fucking department on loan from Michigan who is making sure one of my boys doesn't vanish, get his ass over here and I want another officer too! I want this documented and I want the man arrested for attacking a dependant! I'm not screwing around! If you people don't do something I am calling the feds…no that's not a threat, that's a promise. Who do you think they'll side with? Some po-dunk police department or the United States Army? I even know the answer to that one! God only knows what they'll do when the find out you were covering up a crime committed by a politician."

At that, he slammed the phone down, a smile on his face.

He then looked to me, "Anything else sergeant?"

No way in hell was I answering that one. Well…there were Trooper Barracks and an Air Force Base in the same general area of the state. I'm sure if he put his mind to it he could piss them off too. I kept that thought to myself. The man had just gone to bat for me.

"No sir."

This whole not having to deal with huge problems on my own was nice. I should have joined the Army sooner. It was nice knowing my back was covered by more then one person.

"Good. Go home to your wife, also, I gave Finkelstein word that you two are secondary call. Keep your pagers close incase you two are needed. You shouldn't be but if there is a problem and the primary sniper's run into a problem you two are it."

I blinked, "We're secondary? Since when?"

This was news to me.

Finkelstein and I always had been primary sniper and spotter.

"Yes sergeant, until you were subpoenaed and I had to move the two of you to secondary. Thank the Goodrich DA for that."


	41. Chapter 41

40.

Sanderson hiked into my apartment with a cooler under his arm. Hoot was right behind him with a dozen blue Wal-Mart bags on his arms. The two men simply walked right in my apartment and strolled into the kitchen.

I watched this with great interest from the couch.

The two men hadn't even knocked.

I climbed up onto my knees and watched as Hoot dumped the bags on the counter. "Excuse me…what are you two doing?"

The two men peeked at me.

Hoot explained, "Army game."

Army game?

Sanderson further explained, "Army verses Air Force and it's Gordon's turn to host the event. Do you have a crock-pot?"

The two of them were priceless! Hoot had no shame and Sanderson was so innocent. They were a match made in heaven. Never-the-less, they had grown on me. So I clambered off the couch and made my way into the kitchen to help Sanderson while Hoot unpacked the food, enough food to feed Africa…or a bunch of Rangers, not to mention whatever was in the cooler and I was going to bet that it wasn't bibles.

**An hour or so later…**

The apartment was chock full of Rangers. They were everywhere! And every last one of them brought something, well, except for Gordon, which was fair since the event was being held in our apartment.

One Ranger brought lawn furniture.

Another Ranger brought a baby pool full of ice for the beer.

A Ranger I had never seen before brought what appeared to be fireworks for after the game. The Ranger then informed me the fireworks would be shot off the roof from empty glass beer bottles. I thought it was a bad idea. But, then again, I was the only person in the room who had never handled explosives. So I very well could have been wrong.

Then, I also discovered that the Rangers apparently had some sort of hierarchy even though they were all Rangers. This was news to me. I was well aware that any senior Ranger was always above a newbie, duh. But, apparently, there was a difference between the snipers and the regular Rangers, who according to Mark, Gordon's spotter, couldn't shoot for shit. Though when he expressed that they all seemed to get a big laugh out of it.

I got to watch the assorted men bond, burp, and belittle one another…all while they ate, watched the TV, and wrestled on the floor from the safety of Gordon's lap. While I ate some of the various types of meat prepared.

Men and veggies were apparently incompatible.

So, I tried some mini-weenies, mini-burgers, sausage, hotdog and beans, a bit of hamburger, chili, chicken wings which were my personal favorite, and something Hoot called Brunswick Stew.

I only ate the stuff I could identify.

It was during the half-time show that Mark Finkelstein, aka Kinky, looked over from where he was seated in a lawn chair between two Rangers who had air horns, and asked, "G, whatever happened with that Delta Recruiter? He pick you up for Selection?"

Every head turned towards us.

Well, every head except Hoot, who was busy drinking his beer. Though he never hesitated in the drinking. He wasn't surprised at all. Even when the little bit of beer was gone he checked out the cheerleaders before looking to Gordon.

This was news to me.

While Gordon had mentioned there were people snooping around for seasoned Rangers for various branches of the Special Forces, he didn't mention anything beyond that. Forget recruitment.

He fidgeted in the big lazy-boy chair we shared.

Hoot got to his feet and meandered towards the kitchen.

I chewed the last bit of meat from my chicken wing and watched Gordon casually shrug, "Yeah. We'll see how I do in Selection."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Gordon did and succeeded in whatever he did, there was never any doubt, ever. While the answer lead to every Ranger speaking up about Selection and whatnot, Gordon kept quiet. Which puzzled me. I had no idea whether or not there was a secrecy oath for Selection. But, he didn't seem sure of himself. I began to suck the sauce from my fingers and eyed him while I did so.

He noticed my look and took my other hand. Which also had a fair amount of tangy sauce on it. From his avoidance of my gaze while he began to suck the sauce off, he knew what I was thinking and didn't want to talk about it.

He wasn't the only perceptive one in the chair.

**Later that night…**

I had a dream. A nightmare, and I knew it was a nightmare in my dream but I couldn't wake up from it no matter how hard I tried. It was one I had numerous times before. It was nothing more then a memory. But it was a particularly bad memory.

When I finally woke up from it I sat up gasping. My lungs seemed to be made of steel so it was hard to breathe. I sat gasping and panting trying to get my breath, trying to get some sense into my head.

Where was I?

The sound of partying was outside and upstairs.

The room was dark, black, and I couldn't see anything. In that moment I couldn't remember anything or think of anything.

Then there was movement beside me and a hand fell upon my bare thigh. Immediately I screamed, I shoved myself backwards as hard and fast as I could manage and found myself on a hard floor. From there I stumbled backwards until I hit a wall with my back.

Unable to go any further backward.

Gordon's voice filled the dark room and I remembered where I was. "Shit…Angela? Hold on, lemme get the light."

A feeling worse then fear came over me.

Guilt and shame combined.

I'd woken him up from a stupid dream, a dream I realized I was having, and had freaked out, again. I let my head fall back and smack the wall. Not caring about the sharp pain that came from the connection.

The bathroom light suddenly came on and silhouetted his frame. I winced against the bright light. He closed the door all but a little, which allowed a small beam of light in. Then he got back in bed. He did not lie down. Well that was fine, I wasn't getting back in bed just yet.

Feeling the chill in the room I pulled my nightshirt over my bare legs. My bare legs were cold to the touch. I was freezing when I came to think of it.

I lied my butt off, "I'm ok. Just…go back to sleep. I just need a minute to get my act together."

Oh yeah right, like that was going to happen. I'd have better luck teaching Hoot French.

I looked over at the clock and saw it was a little after three in the morning.

"Angela," he spoke oh-so-calmly.

I could handle it. Or I hoped so, I waved him off, "It's ok. Go back to sleep." We had gotten to bed not two hours earlier and he needed to get some sleep. He'd been up most the other night from certain activities. He needed to get some rest.

"Angela you're shaking," he told me.

Was I?

I looked at my hands and sure enough they were trembling. When I looked up he was inches away from me, "Come here." It wasn't a suggestion. It wasn't exactly an order, but he got his point across. I reached out and took his strong and steady hand that pulled me back onto the mattress. Over the cool damp side of the bed that I had been sleeping on and onto his side, where the blankets were pulled back. Without arguing I shoved my sock covered feet in and let him curl up with me.

He curled up so close there was no room between us. His legs were entwined with mine. His entire front encompassed me, when he wrapped his arms around me it was like being wrapped up in a blanket. I hugged his arms that were wrapped around me. His face was buried in the nape of my neck.

The smart man did not ask what I dreamt about, or how I felt, or if I wanted to talk. He was just as perceptive as I was. If I wanted to talk about it I would. If I had been dreaming about vacationing on a beach in Tahiti, well, I would have awoken differently and he knew this.


	42. Chapter 42

_Authors Note: Boy this has gotten lengthy! No worries, I'll have it wrapped up by chapter 50, I hope_. 

41.

Hoot, for some reason, was passed out on the kitchen floor. I discovered this when I got hungry around five in the morning, when Gordon was out for his jog or wherever he went at five in the morning.

I walked into the kitchen and saw the sleeping man in nothing more then what looked like a Speedo.

I looked heavenwards for help.

A purple tiger-strip Speedo to be exact. A target was also painted on his sculpted chest.

I didn't think I even wanted to know so I didn't ask.

Instead I kicked his calf.

He groaned.

I kicked him again and an eye opened. Then the other eye opened. He licked his lips and sat up, yawning, "Mornin."

There was absolutely no normalcy in my life.

I began to ask him why the hell he was on my kitchen floor. I never got to. Someone pounded on the front door. At this Hoot jerked awake and sat up, "If that's the MP's. I been here all night long."

Of course he had been.

I rolled my eyes and strolled toward the door. Figuring it was one of the new roomies since both their makeshift beds were empty and unslept in. It didn't really dawn on me that all I had on was the t-shirt and Hanes until I opened the door and saw uniformed men.

It was then I realized just how under-dressed I was.

Reese was in the head of the group, "Angela, you need to come with us."

Us?

There were three MP's. Not one of them looked happy.

I felt about three inches tall as they pushed their way into the apartment. Reese then added, "Is Gordon here?"

"No, he's out jogging."

"Do you know how route," Reese asked.

Me?

No, that would imply that I had joined him on one of his early morning exercise expeditions and that wasn't going to happen any time soon. I shook my head and pointed towards the kitchen, "Hoot does though."

Reese then told me, "Go get dressed. Quickly. Grab some BDUs for Gordon to change into too."

**Fifteen minutes later…**

There I sat in the back of a van, **Military Police** marked the sides, while it cruised the roads Hoot had mentioned on the hunt for Gordon. The base was still dark and cold without the sun. Which was just peeking over the horizon. The inside of the van was cold too.

It was summer and I was freezing my butt off. Ok, I had jeans and a long sleeve shirt on, but the men had the A/C on in the van. Which only confirmed my belief that men were walking heaters.

Apparently, most men didn't believe in speed limit signs either.

The van whizzed past numerous joggers, runners, and those seeking to fitten their bodies. Reese would tell them to slow down if he thought he saw Gordon, and then never mind, at which time the van would speed back up.

I almost ended up on the floor when the van hit a speed bump at fifty-five miles and hour.

Finally I gave up and jammed my feet in the seat in front of me, pinning myself in the seat.

I had my hair braided by the time they found Gordon. At which they promptly stopped and Reese jerked forward in his seat, suddenly stopped by his seat belt. I never moved. Damn I was good.

The side door slid open and the MP told my sweaty husband, "Sergeant Gordon, get in the van, now."

There was no "Good Morning" or "Excuse me" or even a "Would you…" oh no.

It was a command.

I watched Gordon tell the guys he was jogging with something, and then climb in the van. His blue eyes scanned the three bench seats. The first one held the commanding MP. The second bench held Reese. Then I was jammed in the last bench seat, hooked in, and probably looking less then my best.

His clothes rested by my side neatly folded.

Gordon made his way hunched over back to my bench seat, and plopped down beside me, on the aisle, since I had the middle seat.

The door was slammed shut and the van rocketed forward.

There was absolutely no need for Gordon to ask a question. Reese immediately began to speak, as if we were being punished for some horrible crime. Though if I had gotten the men on my door so early, I could only wonder how early they had been woken up.

Plus, I was a little curious why they had stopped by.

"Sergeant, I received a call from your commanding officer that your dependant was assaulted at the mall the other day. I also received word that someone threatened to call in the FBI unless the matter was immediately resolved. Are you aware of any of this? Or do I need to give you a full briefing?"

Who the hell told that Greg had attacked me?

Annette?

Gordon?

Hoot?

I looked to Gordon who took my hand in his rather warm one, "I may have mentioned to my captain what happened, sir."

Oh did he?

Gordon wouldn't meet my eyes.

Oh well, wasn't this the perfect way to start the day?

I let my head drop back against the seat and simply listened to the men talk.

"Well then your captain must have told someone because that unleashed a hell storm. Your brother was actually caught on three-mall camera's attacking Mrs. Gordon so a warrant was issued and the locals are picking him up now. They want to see her arm and get her side for evidence. There will be a lineup later which she'll have to go to."

Well this talk got my interest.

If this was about me why all the MP's, why did Gordon need to come to the police department?

My question was answered before I even asked it.

"Also, his, your brother's lawyer claims you called and threatened your brother yesterday?"

Oh hell no!

I ripped my hand away from Gordon's and began to smack him with it. Not hard, but enough to get him to realize I was pissed off! "What the hell! You threatened him! Have you lost your damn mind! You have been spending way too much time with Hoot!"

"Angela…Angela," he tried.

I would hear none of it.

I inched away from him and hung over the back of Reese's seat, "What did he tell his brother?"

Reese paused and I could see through the windshield we were leaving the base. We were almost at the front gate.

Reese was briefly silent, then he meekly told me, "There was something mentioned about a bullet saved for his brother should the man ever approach you, talk to you, or look at you again."

Oh my God!

I unhooked my belt and grabbed Gordon's clothes, I threw them on his lap and continued yelling, "You have lost your damn mind! Put these on and try not to threaten anyone else today! Jesus Gordon, you could ruin your career over this! You can't just threaten to execute a civilian without a good reason, and just because the man shoved me around doesn't mean you can shoot him!"

The MP in the first bench seat pointed at me, "Ma'am calm down. Gordon's career is not in jeopardy. People threaten one another all the time, it isn't illegal."

I had the sudden urge to hurl one of Gordon's black boots that I had brought along at the man's head. But, I didn't. Instead I scooted over to the far end of the bench seat and hooked myself in. I looked out the window fuming. More then just pissed off over what Gordon did.

He was perceptive, let him figure out just how pissed off I was.


	43. Chapter 43

42.

I had been photographed and questioned for the better part of three hours. I hadn't been in the best mood when it began. I wasn't in the best mood when it came time for a line-up.

I stomped down the hall in my flops, my toe rings glittering.

There were many reasons why I was not in an exceptionally cheerful mood. The main reason being Gordon playing Rambo.

So when I was huddled between three lawyers in a small room, looking out one way glass at a line of seven blonde haired blued eyed men in various states of being overweight, I found myself unafraid.

It could have been my desire to smack Gordon around and yell some more for his stupidity.

I easily spotted Greg who for some reason appeared really nervous, no longer cocky. Holding a number 6. I pointed at him, "Number 6. That is the man that attacked me."

Lawyer number 2, the district attorney of the area asked, "Are you sure Mrs. Gordon?"

Was I sure?

What the hell kind of question was that?

I looked at the tall old man with thick glasses, "I am one hundred percent certain that he is the son of a bitch that attacked me."

Reese patted my arm.

I crossed my arms not wanting to be touched. I looked to the district attorney and then the defense attorney for Greg, "Anything else?"


	44. Chapter 44

43.

We needed a car. That was certain. So when the MP van dropped Gordon off at his office and then me at the apartment building, I was still in a pissy mood and needed to unwind somehow, so why not buy a car?

In no mood to paint. Weave. Knit or what not.

I decided that I needed to buy a car. However, there was no way I was going alone. It just wasn't a woman's place on a car lot. I had tried to buy a car once. It didn't go well. The salesman followed me all around and I finally had to leave because he was freaking me out.

So, I decided to bring Annette along. Also, she had a car and I wasn't about to walk to the car dealership.

First I had to find her, which wasn't hard. She was seated on the couch in Steele's apartment halfway through a sleeve of Oreo's. Wearing sweatpants, no wig, a skull decorated do-rag on her head. Crying hysterically as she watched "The Princess Bride."

Cautiously, fearful that she was having a major case of PMS, I closed the door and spoke in a soothing tone, "Annette. Sweetie, you feeling ok? Did you take some Midol?"

She looked up at me and I realized that she was crying.

Oh jeez, she was a crier.

I just ate and stayed in bed during my period.

She shook her head and said something, I wasn't sure since there were two Oreo's in her mouth.

Double stuff Oreo's according to the case.

I went over to her and plopped down beside her on the couch. She pointed to something on the table. There was a mess of cookies and whatnot piled on the coffee table.

She was trying to tell me something. I dug through the pile and froze when I saw the box.

A pregnancy test kit.

Wide-eyed and horrified I looked to her, "Are you?"

The Oreo's gone and she continued to sob. "No…I thought I was cause I dun missed a bunch a periods an I was thinkin, maybe I was, you know. Then I took the test an it said no. Girl, I'm not fertile. Them doctors was right, I cain't have kids." At that she fell over and began to sob hysterically. She buried her face in my lap sobbing, "I'll never be a momma."

Her hot tears soaked through my pants.

At first I began to cry with her feeling bad for her. After all, she was my best friend now that I came to think of it. She was like a sister. She was in pain and needed to be comforted.

Then I realized she was hysterical because she would never know the joys of being a mother. Of birthing her own children. The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. I had given birth and had never even once been upset about giving up my child.

That part of me was numb.

Soon I was in hysterics too.

I had no feeling and I knew it. I had no desire to be a mother and I knew that was not right, it was not normal. I sobbed because of that. I mourned my lack of whatever I was lacking.

**That evening…**

An hour earlier Steele had gotten home and we had eaten every cookie in the apartment. We had eaten the ice cream, the fruit, the chocolate, the pickles, and half a rotisserie chicken.

We had watched "The Princess Bride" eight times and sobbed.

He came home and decided we needed coffee. Annette put some cream and sugar in the pot and brought it to the couch. The cream was very good. I loved to put half and half in my coffee with some milk. But this stuff was great and sweet. It was made by Baileys.

By the time Steele got out of the shower we were drinking the creamer right out of the bottle.

We were on bottle number two by the time Steele had dinner done.

It was when the second bottle was empty he was looking cute.

It was then I realized that something was wrong.

Not only was it time for me to go home, I believed I was drunk and I didn't drink. Nope. Not me. I told Annette that I was going home and I would see her tomorrow.

I stood up, and that was the last thing I remembered.

**Sometime later…**

I woke up and thought my head was going to explode. The pounding was merciless and incessant.

I was never having coffee with Annette again. Ever.

The pain was horrible! There had to be a war going on inside my head. I covered my eyes and whined, rolled onto my side and prayed my head would just explode already.

"Angela…sweetie…open your eyes and take these."

I opened my eyes and saw Gordon's hands. One hand held a glass of orange juice and the other held two white pills. They looked like aspirin. Clumsily, I took the pills and ate them, then swallowed some orange juice and moaned. Just kill me now.

Bailey was an evil man.

A bad bad bad man.

Gordon's hand began to softly run through my hair. Gently rubbing my scalp. It felt so nice. So nice I decided to forget the fact I was mad at him. I buried my face in my pillow and wished the pills would work faster.

His finger nimbly began to play with my hair. My newly red hair.

It was when his lips brushed over my neck did I finally turn my head and look at him.

He brushed a kiss over my lips, "I love you."

"I'm still mad," I told him. To which he laughed and kissed me again and again and again. He laid down beside me and continued to play with my hair. Slowly, as I laid there beside him realized several things.

First, it was Saturday and he had the day off.

Secondly, we still had no means of transportation.

Thirdly, my reason for getting drunk with Annette. Never again would I ever drink. But, I had a bigger issue to worry about. I was a cold-hearted bitch. Sad, but it was true.

In a low tone. Since I was afraid my head would explode if I spoke too loudly, I asked him, "Gordon?"

"Hmmm?" was his quiet answer, thank God.

His face was less the two inches from mine. So there was no need to yell. Softly I asked, "Do you want babies?"

He looked horrified, "Are you pregnant?"

Quickly I told him, "No."

Perceptive as always, he put the pieces together and asked, "Does this have something to do with you and Annette getting hammered last night?"

If I could have, I would have nodded.

Instead I quietly whispered, "Yeah."

"She's crazy, you know that, right?"

A smile curled on my face. Even though I was mad at him it didn't mean we couldn't have pillow talk. So I told him, "She can't have babies and it upset her. I can have babies and I don't want to and it doesn't bother me. Is that wrong?"

I could see I was out of his area of expertise.

I was all the way out in left field.

Yet, he was honest with me. "I don't know, but, I do know, I don't want any babies…or at least…not anywhere in the immediate future. So if that's wrong to feel that way. Then, we're both in the wrong. We'll be in the wrong together."

The smile grew on my lips.

"I'll ask Hoot what he thinks."

At that I put my hand on his face and pushed him back. Hoot had been influential enough on my husband. I didn't need him giving Gordon any advice on the normalcy's of child bearing and procreation among married couples such as us.

We were unique in more then one way.

"Hoot is loopier then his sister and he's gotten you in enough trouble for now. Ask Sanderson, he's from money, he'll give you a whole new perspective."

He sat up and held onto my hand. Kissing my fingers. Fingertip by fingertip. "Come on, Hoot is a man of many skills. Who do you think gave me the hints about bedroom activity?"

Really?

"Remind me to send him a lobster dinner then," I muttered.

Gordon climbed over me, straddling me.

Very slowly he turned me on my back and I glared at him. My head throbbed in protest to the movement. The blood must have run to my head because I remembered something. I pointed at him, "Oh, don't be taking any cooking advice from Hoot. Annette told me what was in that Brunswick stew he cooked."

Gordon snatched my hand and began to kiss my fingertips again. I watched him and asked, "Why do you admire that man so much?" Even though Gordon threatened to deep fry Hoot on more then one occasion, he took what Hoot told him to heart. Gordon didn't ask advice from many people and if he asked Hoot for advice, then Hoot must have been something special.

Gordon had kissed every last one of my fingertips. "Because he is a good man. I respect him. He's strong and dependable. I want to be strong and know that people can rely on me no matter what."

Oh if he only knew just how strong he was. Me telling him wouldn't do much, he had to prove it to himself.

"You know, Hoot's not the reason why I threatened my brother."

This got my attention.

I looked right in his beautiful blue eyes and waited while he toyed with the new bracelet on my wrist. It was a lovely bracelet. He pointed to my wrist, "How much did this cost?"

Well, seeing as it was white gold with blue opals and diamonds, I wasn't going to name a price. It'd give him chest pain. "More then you make in a month."

"I'm in the army. That's not a hard accomplishment," was what he told me.

A smile curled on his lips, "It's pretty."

Well I knew it was pretty.

When he was done toying with my bracelet he laid down on the mattress, on his back. "I'm not a little boy anymore."

When I didn't answer him he turned his head to look at me. Certain I was listening to him, he continued, "I'm a bigger and in a way a stronger person, physically, then I was when we left. I will not allow anyone to torment you. Especially now that I can fold them six ways and I was just sharing that with my brother."

"In a way that included Rommel?"

Rommel being the name he had given his rifle.

A small nod came and then he added, "You realize, I'm not in the Peace Corps. I use that rifle."

I was well aware of that. More so since yesterday. Since I was unable to move because of my head, I reached over and caressed his face. I drew my fingers over his early morning stubble. "I know and I don't want you to loose your beloved rifle over that ass. You've worked too hard to get where you are now and you don't deserve to loose everything over something stupid."

His hand covered my own, "You're not stupid."

Then he took my hand and began to kiss my palm, my wrist, and up my arm, closer and closer to my face. There were times that I wondered how I ended up with someone so caring and in tune to me. By all means, according to half the shrinks in the world I should have stayed firmly in the cycle of victimization. I watched as he ever so gently examined my arm as if it were gold. Gently kissing my skin. I knew just how blessed I was and he was that we had gotten out of that cycle.


	45. Chapter 45

44.

After my last encounter with car salesman I suggested Gordon go alone. However, he then reminded me of the time I sent him out to buy house paint, which had been a disaster.

So I agreed to go along with Gordon. I could have told him what to get but oh well. So, while he went to procure a ride, I got dressed. I hadn't done laundry so I had to pull on a pair of my paint stained jeans and one of his Army shirts. The word **ARMY** across my breasts, ever so tasteful.

At least some of the olive green paint stained on my jeans matched the t-shirt. I found some flip-flops and a baseball cap to pull my hair up under. In no mood to do much with it since my head had ceased pounding.

I grabbed my purse and put my other checkbook in it. I had two checking accounts. One that I kept the majority of my earnings in as a savings account should need for something arise. Then the other one where I kept a little bit of money for monthly bills and whatnot.

I had everything I needed so I locked the door and hurried down the steps, wondering whose car Gordon had gotten possession of for the day. At the bottom of the stairs I walked past both Hoot and Sanderson picking the lock on a mailbox. The box wasn't theirs and I didn't stop. I waved and continued out the front door of the building.

Once out the front door I easily spotted Gordon, who was talking with our new roomie Randy, over Randy's motorcycle.

Both men spotted me and Randy held out his helmet to me.

Gordon had gotten possession of a motorcycle? He looked to me with a grin and I kept my mouth shut. If a motorcycle made him happy, then I'd hop my butt on the bike and pray we didn't die.

I took the helmet and pulled it on, catching the last bit of Randy's advice about the bike.

"Don't worry about scratching it, I'm looking for a new one. It may need gas. I don't know how much Hoot left in it."

The helmet was on.

Someone knocked on it! I turned and saw none other then Hoot, who proceeded to tell Randy, "Tighten it up man, her head'll pop outta that if she bounces good on the road."

The helmet completely covered my head and went to my neck, plus had a face guard of clear something that also went to my neck. Oddly, I could hear perfectly. Even though it felt like my head was in a fishbowl.

Someone grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me a few steps back, then began to fiddle with the helmet, Randy I was assuming. He then began to smack the helmet and tug on it. Happy, he stopped and spoke up, "She's good to go Gordon."

I turned my head and looked at our new roomie.

He flashed me a smile, "Make sure you hold on tight."

Not a problem.

I looked back to Gordon as he hopped on the bike, kicked the kickstand up, and turned it on. Odd. He seemed to be well versed in the ways of working a motorcycle.

Once he was ready he patted the back seat.

Uh-huh.

Where was my stepladder?

Hoot tapped my helmet, I turned and looked at him. He pointed to the seat, "I lift you on up under your arms, a'ight?"

Ok, I'd let him.

I was happier he asked anyway. So I nodded and stepped to the bike, wondering how the hell I was supposed to get up. Randy told something to Gordon which resulted in Gordon flipping Hoot off. I was too busy to get the details. Hoot's hands went under my arms and lifted me up off the ground like I weighed nothing. He simply dropped me on the back of the bike. Well, he didn't drop me, he placed me down. Once on the bike Gordon turned and helped me get situated.

**The Ford Dealership…**

We arrived and I decided I really liked the motorcycle, it was fun. I was going to buy Gordon one once I figured out what kind he liked.

Not only was it fun going fast on the bike, feeling the wind go through clothes, and the vibration beneath us. But I had an excuse to wrap my arms around his waist and cling to him.

When he pulled into the car dealership I was greatly bummed.

He pulled into a parking spot, put the kickstand down, and turned the bike off. Then he looked back at me with a huge smile, "You can slide off."

"Make me," I told him through the helmet.

He blew me a kiss and patted my thigh.

Fine…I'd get off.

I loosened my grip and slid off the side of the bike, my foot hit the concrete and then I hopped the rest of the way off. He pulled a key out of the bike and climbed off, dropping the key in his pocket.

I looked around at all the cars.

There were thousands of them. It was as I scanned the horizon of cars I noticed several men carousing through the aisles. These men had car dealers following them like hawks. The closer I looked the more they began to resemble Sanderson, Hoot, and Randy.

I looked to Gordon to point them out. His fingers found the bottom of my helmet and smoothly lifted it up and off. "Yes it's them, they're drawing fire so we can shop in peace."

"Drawing fire?"

Gordon nodded, holding onto the helmet, "Creating a distraction. What kind of car did you want to look at?"

I knew exactly what kind of car I wanted to look at, "The Mustangs. I want a red one."

I wanted a pretty red mustang. Once I had one I could start working on the murals I had been commissioned to do. I was pretty sure I could fit all my supplies in one…I hoped.


	46. Chapter 46

45. Gordon

**A few weeks later…**

It was just after midnight when the lights of Detroit came into view out of the plane's window. Angela had left the window shade up so she could see the stars. Why, I had no idea. She was sound asleep with her head nestled in a pillow, which was on my lap. Not that I was complaining, not at all.

I hadn't been able to sleep.

Not that I couldn't sleep on planes. I couldn't sleep on this plane. For the better part of my life, since the ripe age of fifteen, I had avoided the state of Michigan like it was an invaded land.

Looking over at the city of Detroit, a feeling that I only got when the shit hit the fan in combat slowly built in my gut.

I looked over at the center row where Reese slept. The man had been passed out since we changed planes in Pittsburgh.

I looked back down at Angela. I wouldn't wake her up. She'd wake up once the plane touched down. She'd be up when we drove up to Goodrich in whatever rental car we could get. She probably wouldn't sleep good until we were heading back home to our little apartment.

There was something in me that wouldn't let me relax, wouldn't let me calm down enough to just enjoy the rest of the flight. It wasn't like I was flying into a war zone or anything. All I had to do was testify. Yet, there were a million other hotspots in the world I'd rather be hunkered down in with Kinky.

I looked back out the window.

We were still over Detroit.

The plane began its descent. It wasn't a rapid drop, far from it. Angela woke up though. Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself facing my fly. Her eyes roamed upward till they found mine. "Are we landing?"

"Umhmm," I nodded.

She made a noise and curled closer to me, pulling herself into a tighter ball if that was even possible. Making herself smaller under the paper-thin blanket the flight attendant had given her.

I reached down and brushed the reddish strands of hair from her perfect face. Then I ran my thumb over the three diamond studs she had pierced in her ear. After that I traced my thumb over her lip. She was awake because she kissed me.

"Let's fly down to Mexico instead," she suggested.

I wish.

Though…if we didn't wake Reese up and snuck off the plane.

**The Rental Car Place…**

Reese, for some reason, had chosen to fly wearing a designer suit. When we landed he had to fix his tie and buttons.

Once in the rental car he hung up his jacket, took some more Nyquil and laid down across the back seat of the Explorer.

The man was as loopy as Hoot.

He didn't even toss his bag in the back, he used it as a footrest. Not a headrest because that would wrinkle his skin.

I just hurled my small bag and Angela's wheeled bag in the back, hung my uniform on the little hook, and slammed the trunk. I had it timed just right. It was at that time Angela came out of the ladies room. Even under the limited light of the streetlamps I could tell she looked a little pale.

"Angela, sweetie, you ok? You want to lie down in the back for the ride?"

She gave me the biggest fake smile.

Then she shook her head, "No. I'm ok, just got a little sick. Might have been from all the flying." She gave me a small wave and strolled towards the front passenger door, shotgun.

Sick from flying my ass.

But, I wasn't going to call her on it.

I walked around the Explorer and climbed in the driver's side. Peeked in the back and saw Reese's bare feet on his luggage. Then I looked over at Angela who popped a piece of gum in her mouth. I reached over and took her hand , which was cold as ice.

Oh yeah, this was going to suck.

We should have just snuck off and went to Mexico.

**The Inn…**

The prosecutor had a room rented for Reese and the two of us. I had Angela rent our own room elsewhere, under Hoot's name. For the two possible days we were to be in Goodrich I didn't want anyone other then my Captain and guys to know where we were.

Reese had been thrilled Angela had picked out a Bed and Breakfast and got him his own room.

I was beginning to have my suspicions about that man.

Especially when I heard him shrieking from across the hall at the sight of a hot tub.

Something was not right with that man.

Angela didn't seem to care.

She just kicked her luggage beside the bed and then she stared at the bed as if risking her odds.

"Sweetie, could you hang my uniform up? I'll make the bed."

She backed away from the bed as if it would bite. Then she turned to me and took the hanger from my hand. She gave me a smile and then set off to find the closet in the Victorian style room. It had more frills and lace then a friggin beauty pageant.

Then I began to rip apart the bed that had probably taken more half an hour to make. I tossed all the pillows on the floor and covered them with the thick comforter. After that I pulled every sheet except the bottom one off the bed and began to make a little makeshift bed. Topped it off with four sleeping pillows.

I made sure the front door was locked.

Then I began to look through the frilly room.

All three windows were locked and there were no other doors in the room. Once I was happy in knowing we were secure in the room I found a chair and shoved it under the knob of the front door.

Then I needed my bag.

In my bag was my gun.

Unloaded of course, the only way you could put a gun underneath a plane. Unloaded and dismantled. We had made a quick stop at a 24-hour Wal-Mart on the way out of Detroit for bullets.

My bag was on what was left of the bed.

Angela was already on our makeshift bed pulling off her shoes.

Without a word I went to my bag, unzipped it, and took out a small travel case. I opened it and took out my Glock piece by piece. Then box of bullets. I counted out the bullets from the box. Kicked off my sneakers. Then sat down beside her on the blankets and pillows. She was already under the blankets and making herself comfortable.

Once she was she watched me assemble my gun.

She watched me count out the bullets for the clip and push them in, one by one. Once the Glock was assembled I flipped the safety on and hid it under the corner of the makeshift bed, right under my side.

I was almost ready to lie down, forget sleep. I looked down at her, "You want me to turn the lights off?"

She shook her head and held the blanket up.

The lights would stay on then.

I shoved my legs under the blanket and made myself as comfortable as humanly possible.

She curled up against me. She pulled my arm around her and set her chin on my chest.

We stayed that way for what was left of the night.

I stared at the ceiling while she napped. She didn't exactly sleep. Every time she found herself drifting she would wake up. Shift in the bed. Slowly she would drift off and wake back up to repeat the cycle.

When it came time for my PT I never moved. There was no way in hell I was leaving her alone. I stayed in the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the phone to go off at seven for the wake up call.


	47. Chapter 47

46.

For the first time in years, well, since I went to the Colonel's Birthday dinner, I found myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror putting on makeup. It was rare that I wore it. I didn't feel a need to wear it. Plus, Gordon apparently thought lipstick tasted funny.

I wanted to look as grown up as possible.

I had bought a black pantsuit especially for court, which I would burn once I got back to our little home. I had bought heels to go with it. They would get burnt too. There were to be no mementos of this little sadistic trip back north.

The suit fit just the way it had been cut to and hid me behind the black material. I hid my eyes behind mascara. I hid the dark circles under my eyes with concealer and smoothed my face with a dusting of some face stuff, which I couldn't name since I rarely put it on. Then some blush and lipstick.

I wanted to look older.

I wanted the fresh look gone. I wanted to look older, I didn't want to look attractive to him. If I looked like an adult, wore adult clothes, and wore makeup that would help.

Gordon watched from where he was seated on the toilet. Dressed completely in his uniform. The buttons, pins, and ribbons were a plenty. He wore them well, there was no mistaking him for some young kid in a uniform playing G.I. Joe till his four years ran up and he went to college. Just the way he wore the uniform told you it was a part of him.

It was free of any lint. Starched to perfection and wrinkle free somehow.

He watched me apply my makeup with fascination. As if he were witnessing a Japanese Tea Ceremony. Without a word he sat there. Not a word had been spoken between us all morning. Not since last night. Not until I made sure there was no lipstick on my teeth and smoothed my hands over my black jacket.

I was dressed.

So I turned to him. Where he looked at me with those stunning blue eyes of his. I informed him, "I'm done."

**The Courthouse…**

Trial was an hour off but the prosecutor had wanted to see us before the trial for some reason. She had been angry we hadn't flown up earlier. But we didn't want to spend any more time then we had to in Goodrich. Naturally Gordon's captain had told the woman she was lucky to get him for the few days he had worked out.

I personally didn't care how unhappy she was. I really didn't.

But it was obvious when we stepped into her office. The woman was pouring over paperwork with a passion. She was some sort of Native American. Her face round, she had dark eyes and darker hair, but stress had aged her past her fifty years.

She looked up at us when the door closed, at the sight of Gordon's uniform a weight lifted from her chest. "You weren't in the hotel I arranged."

Gordon answered that, "No we weren't."

He sounded about as optimistic as I felt.

When she realized she wasn't going to get anything else out of him she stood and motioned to the chairs in front of her littered desk. I took a seat and Gordon shook her hand before taking a seat. When she realized I wasn't about to shake her hand she took her seat. She looked through her paperwork while she spoke, "Since I didn't have a chance to prep you two for trial I'll run over a few things, just so the defense won't catch you off guard."

Gordon snorted.

I reached over and smoothed my hand over the top of his. Rubbing the tense muscle with my thumb. She noticed this and actually asked, "Your marriage is real…it's not just a shame?"

This made my eyebrows rise and I'm sure Gordon had a less them happy expression on his face. She quickly clarified, "Your lawyer was here earlier and told me that the marriage was originally a legality in order to hide. But this is good, it'll give the jury an image that you two are normal and there isn't much lasting damage, we need that stability, it makes you two appear credible."

I continued to touch Gordon, distract him, calm him down. I didn't have to see his face to know he was about ready to leave his chair. I couldn't control his mouth though.

"If our credibility was questionable why the fuck did you bother subpoenaing us? We could be at work. We have careers you know. Believe it or not, I'd rather be on base then sitting on the bench recounting some of the shitiest days of my life."

Inwardly I was relieved, he only used the F-word once.

I don't know what she was expecting but he wasn't it. The woman was speechless. Her lips moved and no words came out. Finally something did, "I apologize Sergeant Gordon. It's just our three other witnesses aren't going to be very helpful on the stand and I found out we're down to two today, not counting the both of you."

Oh I had been briefed on the witnesses.

One was in jail for murdering men. One was a prostitute. Then one had been in and out of mental hospitals for the better part of her life.

"Then don't take it out on us. Take it out on the defense attorney. Don't worry about me, ok, there is nothing that man can say to me that will affect my ability to tell the truth. Piss me off, yeah, he'll probably do that, but that's all."

Gordon certainly had a way with words.

"That is just what I am afraid of sergeant. You have temper issues concerning this young lady. I don't want you exploding on the stand. Now, the defense attorney will be going with the "cycle of victimization" _not guilty_ defense. He'll probably try and infer in some way that Mrs. Gordon somehow enticed him in his own twisted way. You need to be ready for that sergeant."

Now it was my turn to speak up, "He's portraying himself as a victim?"

She looked annoyed and nodded, "It's bullshit. You know it, I know it, and the world knows it. But that's his story and he's sticking to it."


	48. Chapter 48

_Author's Note: Ok, from my limited knowledge on case law that comes from CJ classes and episodes of Law and Order, any mistakes are mine here. Enjoy and review._

47.

First the prosecutor interviewed me and then the defense. The whole time I felt his eyes on me, yet, I never looked at him. I could see him watching me from the corner of my eye.

Not once did I glance his way.

Nor did I look at the jury.

I had felt myself detach and go numb inside. Once they called my name and I walked to the stand beside the judge, I felt myself go numb. I knew why. I knew what they were going to ask. If I had to go over it I didn't want to feel anything.

I wouldn't let myself cry.

Sure, I probably looked like the ice bitch of all time. Yet. I was so blissfully numb inside I really didn't care. Which allowed me to give the defense attorney looks so vile Annette would have been proud.

Looks I would never be capable of reproducing again in my life.

When it was all done and over with and I walked back to my seat in the benches of the courtroom, beside Gordon. I was still numb. I didn't feel a thing. Gordon's hand touched my thigh and I didn't feel the usual tightening, or anything. I was just numb, pissed off, and numb.

I crossed my arms and legs while looking straight ahead.

"Are you ok," he whispered.

I could see the looks of the people around us. The looks of pity and horror on the faces of the jury. The looks of the people around us as they stared. Looked at my clothes as if they could see through and find the scars from the pictures the prosecutor had shown.

"I'm fine," I growled.

Gordon, a wise perceptive man did not ask any more questions.

Then I heard Mrs. Birdsong call out his name, "The State calls Sergeant. Gary I Gordon to the stand."

One last time he patted my hand and then he stood. He made his way out to the aisle and walked through the court and up to the stand. I watched him watch every step Gordon took. His eyes followed Gordon like a hawks and were full of genuine hatred. Once behind the bench Gordon did something I didn't have the courage, he looked at him and gave him a glare that made the cretins eyes widen. The man shrunk in his seat.

Reese leant forward and whispered in my ear, "Don't worry. This'll all be over soon and we have a flight out of here in six hours."

Oh, if he didn't think I was counting down the man had lost his mind. While Gordon was sworn in I leant back and whispered, "Six hours and forty-seven minutes."

Then I turned my attention back to Gordon. Who looked so confident and strong, it looked so natural. I had been putting on a front. Reverting to my inner ice bitch. He was naturally strong and it was just one of the many reasons why I loved him so much.

DA Birdsong stood calmly in front of him, speaking in a plaid tone. As if she were afraid to awaken a sleeping tiger. She had spoken to me as if she were trying not to wake a baby.

"Sergeant Gordon, you lived next door to Angela Gordon, you're long time wife. Is that correct?"

Like clockwork he spoke, "Yes ma'am."

She continued, "Your bedroom window faced her bedroom window. Is that correct."

"Yes ma'am."

"Did you at any time witness any of the sexual attacks or physical abuse upon your wife when she was a child?"

There was a subtle change in his voice, "Yes ma'am, I did."

Like he promised he sat up straight and kept himself in control. I was so proud.

"Did you tell anyone about these attacks?"

Again, that subtle change in his tone was back. "I told several people, no one believed me or wanted to get involved."

She chose her wording very carefully. She must have thought there was a big ole tiger curled up inside of him. "When was it you decided to runaway?"

Gordon ran his tongue over his teeth.

He then spoke in an eerily calm voice, "When she told me she was pregnant."

That had been one hell of a conversation. One I hadn't been sure I wanted to have with him. One I thought I should have kept from happening, I was glad I had talked myself out of that.

"Did you ever confront Mr. Lancaster?"

I inched down a hair in my seat. The wooden bench was not exactly on the cutting edge of comfort.

"Yes, ma'am I did."

She pressed the issue, "What happened?"

Gordon's eyes flirted towards him and then back to the DA, "I always ended up hurt. He would beat me up and then take it out on her. I was never strong enough to stop him from hurting her."

"Mr. Lancaster assaulted you? Did you not tell anyone? Did anyone notice?"

To me Gordon looked a tad annoyed.

"Ma'am, no one really cared in my house. My father wasn't much better then he was, the two men enjoyed tormenting people smaller and weaker then they were."

His defense attorney stiffened but didn't say anything.

Then again, they were going with not guilty by some psych BS. He did it but didn't mean to.

The DA continued her questioning, "What happened when you both ran away until the child was born?"

Oh this would be good.

I really hoped she didn't plan on mapping our movements.

"I found us a place to stay in Detroit while I worked. I worked until she went into labor. She delivered the baby. Gave up the baby and we left Michigan."

"Mr. Lancaster found you while in Detroit?"

"Yes ma'am he did."

"You didn't tell anyone where the two of you were hidden?"

"Not a soul."

"Did Mrs. Gordon."

"No ma'am."

"So Mr. Lancaster would have had to tracked you two down in order to find out where you had her hidden?"

"Yes ma'am."

It was then that the defense attorney stood up, "Your honor, the witness cannot testify to what my client did or didn't do. It's hearsay, I ask your honor to have the jury disregard that comment."

Mrs. Birdsong immediately shot back, "Your honor, the witness is merely stating a fact that occurred, also proving pre-meditation."

All eyes were on the judge, a skinny elderly Asian woman. For some odd reason her eyes flittered to me for a moment. Then she looked to the DA, "Is there a point in this line of questioning council?"

"Yes your honor, the state is attempting to prove that Mr. Lancaster deliberately stalked the witness and Mrs. Gordon on numerous occasions. Showing a pattern of pre-meditation proving the accused knew exactly what he was doing and did so freely of his own will."

That sounded good to me.

The judge nodded to Mrs. Birdsong, "I'll allow it, but no side trips down memory lane."

The defense attorney sat down as Mrs. Birdsong nodded, "Yes your honor." She then looked back to Gordon, "Did Mr. Lancaster find you and Mrs. Gordon at any other time?"

Oh, I personally had lost count.

"Yes ma'am. We moved around so much because he kept finding us."

DA Birdsong walked back to her table and picked up a piece of paper, "The state notes exhibit thirteen from evidence. Sergeant, could you tell me what this is?" She handed Gordon the piece of paper enclosed in a clear plastic folder.

His blue eyes looked over it, "It's my resume from our time on the run."

"How many places of employment are listed sergeant?"

Gordon actually had to count them, "Forty-six ma'am."

"Mr. Lancaster found you two forty-six times?"

"Yes ma'am, that was the only reason we ever packed up and moved."

She took the piece of paper and held onto it, "What happened when this last date occurred? You and Mrs. Gordon seem to have disappeared. Did Mr. Lancaster give up?"

Gordon seemed to be hesitant, but he answered her question, "I don't know about that ma'am. But on the last date I turned eighteen. I changed my identity and got new papers. Then I married Angela and joined the Army."

"Since then, has Mr. Lancaster ever gotten into contact with you or Mrs. Gordon?"

"Only his lawyer after his arrest ma'am."

"Thank you sergeant. The state is done with this witness."

Slowly the defense attorney stood. He was a short and stout man. Slightly balding and had a hideous suit on. He screamed public defender and didn't seem too keen on asking Gordon anything.

He smoothed his tie and walked over toward Gordon, "Sergeant Gordon…you're familiar with the cycle of abuse?"

Gordon looked to the judge, "I'm confused your honor. Was that a question or a statement?"

Oh God, he was going to be a pain in the ass.

Mrs. Birdsong didn't even bother to object.

The judge looked to the defense, "Could you clarify for the witness council?"

"Yes your honor. Sergeant, you grew up in a violent home. Did you not?"

The DA stood up to object, but not in time.

Gordon looked downright pissed off, "What the hell does that have to do with _his_ trial?"

Mrs. Birdsong quickly spoke up, "Your honor, Sergeant Gordon is not on trial here. I move to discontinue this line of questioning."

"Your honor, I am merely pointing out that the cycle of violence is repetitive. The state brought Sergeant Gordon's childhood up. The sergeant also mentioned that he and my client fought."

DA Birdsong was not a happy woman, "Your honor, Sergeant Gordon and the accused are two completely different men. The sergeant has a successful military career and no history of violence, it would be detrimental to the accused to compare the two men."

The judge hesitated, she looked to Gordon and then the defense attorney, "I'll allow it council. But watch it, the state is right, you may do more harm to your client."

"Yes your honor."

Gordon looked just thrilled. He probably could have eaten glass.

"Sergeant, your father was a abusive man?"

There was no missing the pissitivity levels had risen in Gordon's voice, "Yes sir he was."

"Have you even hit your wife?"

Oh yeah, this was going to do wonders for his mood, I looked back at Reese and hissed, "Do something!"

He leant forward, "I have no jurisdiction in this trial. I'm a military lawyer. Let him poke Gordon all he wants…he can't do any harm."

I missed Gordon's answer because I hissed at Reese, "Gordon's going to get his ass in trouble and get thrown in jail for mouthing off."

I turned around and caught the end of Gordon's little tirade. "You know what…let me save you some time. I have never had any inclination to hurt my wife. I've never had any desire to rape anyone. I am morally opposed to rape. I have never touched any woman or man in any way that has been inappropriate. Nor do I have any sick or twisted fantasies."

Almost immediately I spun around in my seat in order to tell Reese to do something, anything, I wasn't really picky.

Reese was already on his feet, "I'm on it."

At that I looked heavenwards and prayed for the first time in years that Gordon wouldn't get himself in trouble.


	49. Chapter 49

48.

**Almost a week later…**

"I really think you two should consider Vegas. Not only are there a plethora of unique marriage opportunities there is stuff to do. We could go to the Hoover Dam. We could see the desert. We could go to the shows and casinos. It is a all in one place…oh, and you could go shopping while we go out to the paintball tournament."

I gave Sanderson a look and looked back at the paints I was mixing. I almost believed him. "Do you happen to remember what happened the last time the bunch of you entered into a paintball tournament?"

It hadn't been pretty.

This new fact caught Randy's attention. Seated on the floor while he dismantled his rifle he looked to my husband, who was seated beside Hoot, the two men watched the sentencing of Mr. Lancaster on Court TV with great interest. Gordon more concentrated then Hoot.

"What happened," Randy asked.

"We won," Sanderson quickly told him.

"Damn straight," Hoot added.

"You guys killed every last civilian in the tournament," I clarified.

Sanderson unfolded yet another brochure as Hoot turned around, "Hey, we needed the money. Not all us have a pretty lil millionaire wifey to buy us whatever we want."

While I looked at the third wedding chapel, this one an Elvis Chapel, Gordon jumped on Hoot and attempted to strangle him. Not again. I looked over the brochure scolding them in the process, "Boys…knock it off, I don't want to have to buy another couch."

"Look, the photo's are included with the limo ride at this chapel." Sanderson oh so helpfully pointed out.

Well, that was a nice package, I had to admit. It was also better then the nudist chapel that Hoot was so fond of.

They bounced off the couch and onto the floor, landing between the coffee table and couch. Randy glanced up but didn't move from his spot on the floor.

"Do they include fresh flowers? Or would we have to bring our own," I asked Sanderson. Both he and Hoot plus Randy would tag along to be witnesses. I had a feeling we wouldn't see much of them during the wedding trip.

Hoot's head popped up.

Obviously on top of Gordon, "We stayin in a casino? Right?"

I was about to tell him yes. Until I heard something break and the both of the swear. It sounded like wood splintering. "How many times do I have to tell you two? You both weigh close to two hundred pounds! You two cannot be bouncing on and off furniture like that."

"It ain't broke," Hoot told me.

Yeah, right, sure it wasn't.

Randy spoke up, but not at my husband and Hoot. "You know, some married couples just have a second honeymoon instead of renewing their vows."

"Yeah, but they ain't never had the first honeymoon."

The fact Hoot knew that was a surprise to me. He didn't get much more out, Gordon grabbed a pillow and belted his friend upside the head with it.

I turned my attention back to Sanderson and my paints. Just in time to hear Sanderson talk over the phone to the Elvis Chapel, "Yeah, I have a question about your wedding chapel. Do you have fresh flowers or would we have to bring our own?"

I was surrounded by men. But, for the first time in my life I could just enjoy their company without having to worry about anything.


End file.
